How Stupid Can I Be?
by unicyclehippo
Summary: Gail is stupid. She knows that. She's also stupidly unlucky.
1. Chapter 1

**How Stupid Can I Be?**

**I don't own Rookie Blue.**

**Please enjoy.**

_Goodnight, Gail._

Those words echoed in my head long after my shift had ended, long after I found myself somehow at home, in bed, staring at the ceiling.

_Goodnight, Gail._

And I thought about going to sleep but then instead I was going through everything in my mind over and over, every interaction we'd ad today because I had to pick apart every excruciating detail of my life. I'm Gail Peck. That's what I do.

I probably shouldn't have tried to convince Rodney to do the thumb, to leave Holly alone, out of this whole thing. But I also wish that I'd tried harder or that he hadn't been a complete and utter failure and incompetent. He was probably older than Holly! He should be capable of getting a print from a thumb for fucks sake.

Truth was, I hadn't been ready to see Holly. Or rather, I was ready. I desperately wanted to see her. And I underline, bold, and capitalise the word desperately. But I'd hurt Holly and I'd stayed away and that had hurt her even more and I couldn't, I didn't…I never wanted to hurt Holly. Ever. But I'd started to _feel_ things and I was scared and then hurt and then I'd done something stupid and I couldn't take it back and I didn't know how to apologise and every time my phone flashed with the name Holly I could feel my stomach twisting and my heart pounding so hard that I was afraid I would die. And every time, just when I was thinking about reaching out and just getting it over and done with because really, who cared if I died anyway, Holly was gone and my phone was silent.

But back to the matter at hand. Analysing every stupid thing I'd ever done.

_Izzy Shaw. Teenage delinquent_. Stupid, I berated myself. Why did I always blurt out stupid jokes? They weren't even funny. And in that breathy, high-pitched way that made it way too obvious that I couldn't breathe properly. But was Holly fazed at all? No. She was cool and professional. She was the best. So she'd just said, cool as anything, 'no food or drink' and

_It's so good to see you. _What was that? Oh, right. Stupid. That's what that was. Because it really, really was. It had been deliriously good to see her. It was sunlight and rainbows and a fucking child-angel choir singing good to see her and then I realised it was bad. Very bad. Because I remembered I'd been stupid and we weren't together anymore and we weren't happy and I was still smiling like an idiot – when did I ever start smiling at people? Never. It was painful. It didn't feel right. Maybe that's why Holly ignored me – and in turn my completely uncomfortable smile – in favour of the thumb.

Plus, you know, she was doing her job.

_Plus_, the thumb was kind of cool in a gory, disgusting way that I liked because I'm me and weird and Holly liked because puzzles were her favourite thing in the world. God. Puzzles. Holly was such a dork. My dork. No, not my dork anymore because I am a stupid idiot who said stupid things and did stupid things and smiled stupidly to cover up the fact that I was awkward and weird and I felt like I was in physical pain from being in such close proximity to Holly and knowing that I had to fix it but just not knowing _how_. And I really need to find a new adjective because stupid wasn't cutting it any more.

_Yup. That is a thumb. _Way to go, genius. I decided to resort to mental sarcasm, scolding myself. Because calling myself a genius sarcastically is exactly the same as calling myself stupid. Which is what I am, having told the incredibly smart, holder of like seven billion degrees Doctor Holly Stewart something that she clearly already knew. And then Holly had said some mumbo-jumbo about rehydration that _she_ knew I knew nothing about and instead of explaining it to me with that cute, excited smile because science was fascinating to her and she was happy to explain it, she walked out. Leaving me to watch her go. Which I did. And then that kid said 'you two used to bone' and I remembered that, oh joy, there was someone else there to witness every second of my humiliation and stupidity and I felt myself shutting down ice-cold.

And Holly had done her thing, getting us a print, and I did yet another stupid thing. Big surprise. I actually really liked kids, you know? And if Holly hadn't spent the last god knows how long completely ignoring me and doing her work and not caring that I was there and using all her big fancy medical words instead of Gail-speak that she used to do, and if I hadn't then been staring wistfully after Holly and feeling like I was being ripped apart every second that I stood there and wasn't apologising, wasn't touching her arm, wasn't getting even a single tiny bit of eye contact or something to tell me that we were going to talk, that Holly was prepared to give me a little leeway or just a minute opportunity… anyway. I wouldn't have said anything cruel to Izzy at all, if I hadn't been freaking out. She was a nice enough girl with a devious streak that I admired. But babysitting and mournful longing really didn't go together, especially when the 'baby' was like sixteen years old and could tell you to your face that you were being a stupid idiot.

And I'd thanked Holly. And smiled. And Izzy had been lingering behind me but I had to do something because Holly was _right there_ and if I didn't do something then, I would have left and I would probably never go back of my own volition so then and there was the best time I was going to get.

And I was presumptuous. Talking about going out. Drink. Apologising. Never actually saying the words but making damn sure that Holly knew I was trying. Stupid idea, really. The stupidest. Not trying, that wasn't stupid, that part was something I had to do. It was the waiting. It was the walking out on her and not apologising straight away, or the day after, or anytime that Holly had called me – as Holly said to my face, cutting me down into tiny, regret filled little pieces just like I deserved. And of course she was seeing someone.

Because Holly was amazing.

And Holly wasn't stupid. Cut you loses. She'd tried, I would gladly give her a point for that. She'd tried to work with me but know she knew what I was like and she moved on. Good. Holly was happy so I was happy.

I wasn't happy. But Izzy had gone and I'd screamed after her and that was stupid, letting the girl leave. I'd literally been given one job and failed at that. More proof of my rapidly growing idiocy. I mean, I found her but losing her in the first place wasn't good.

_Brought you a thumb_, Holly had said in greeting. And then, because she was sweet and thoughtful and a good person, _did you find her_? knowing that stupid Gail had lost a girl. But yes, I'd found Izzy but I couldn't let Holly know, could I? Even if Holly had wanted to hear from me, which surely she didn't, it wasn't appropriate. She'd moved on and being texted by an ex wasn't fun. Plus, what would I have said? Found the girl I'd lost because I was an asshole to her. Have a good shift? And then Holly was funny and kidding around like everything was fine and her eyes – I'd always thought they were so beautiful, so expressive – begged at me please Gail just let it go, joke with me, everything is fine just let me go.

And I, stupid Gail, opened my stupid mouth and let stupid truths drop out like they mattered at all.

_I still act that age. Come on, it's true._ I tried to say it lightly but I knew that my eyes were showing anything but light or joking. And I'd looked away because I couldn't keep eye contact. Holly looked uncomfortable so I couldn't look at her while I said it. I needed to say it because it was true and at the very least Holly deserved this truth. _I'm, I'm impetuous. I'm self-destructive. I'm a brat._ And Holly tried to interrupt and I just, god I remember being so terrified that if I didn't get it out I never would.

_It's not okay. And I don't wanna end up a sad, sorry woman who…_ I didn't know the right words. I didn't know them but the moment was ending and I had to say something, even if it wasn't good enough. _Who threw away the most wonderful person she's ever met_.

And Holly had smiled at me and said _Goodnight Gail_ and walked away and I watched her leave and then I drifted into the locker room, threw up in the toilet, changed into my day clothes and found myself at home.

And it was stupid, I realised alone in my room with the lights off and cocooned in my blankets, to think that anything would have changed because I'd finally admitted that I was wrong. Because we'd both known that already.

Too little too late, right? Holly had moved on and left me and the worst part was that I had no one to blame but myself. The only thing I could possibly blame her for was not believing me when I told her I would ruin this, us, and bring us down. But that, again, wasn't her fault.

Nick. Nick I could blame for leaving me and for falling in love with Andy and not breaking up with me like a decent human being. Chris I could blame for not trusting me when I told him there was nothing between me and Dov. For telling me more recently that I'm a cold lesbian and I have no regard for people's feelings. I could blame Dov for reminding me that I was an uncertain sexuality and mediocre compared to the brilliant Holly Stewart. I had my mother to blame for incredible self-doubt, terrifying Pecks-pectations, and abandonment issues.

And I only had me to blame for stupidly, stupidly letting Holly go.

* * *

Dov woke me with a sharp rapping on the door. "Come on, Gail! We're going to be late if you don't get up right now." He banged again when he didn't hear any movement and I obediently grunted to let him know I was awake.

There was coffee and a stale something pastry-ish for me when I got into the car. No Chris though.

"Chris sick again?" I asked around a mouthful of an ambiguous pastry. Dov scowled at the road.

"Something like that."

"This about why he's super jumpy and untrustworthy and probably on drugs?" I said off-hand. Then Dov scowled harder and his hands clenched on the steering wheel and I remembered one, his brother had been on drugs and killed himself so I probably should have censored myself a little and two, he didn't disagree which meant… "Crap."

"Gail," he said warningly.

"What is it?"

"Gail."

"What _is _it?"

Dov glanced my way and I let him know with my iciest of icy stares that I wasn't going to let this go. "Coke."

"Fuck." He nodded. I nodded. We had to do something. "Shit. Okay. I'll make some calls."

His hand whipped out towards me and latched onto my bicep, hard enough to leave a bruise. "No, Gail, we can't. He's got to do this by himself. And we can't let anyone know – he's a _cop_."

"He's also our friend. And I'm not stupid. If you would give me a second, I would have told you that someone owes me a favour, I wasn't going to name Chris, and of course I would help you bully him into doing this by himself. I'm a cop too, Dov, and I'm not an idiot." He probably would have understood all of that from a simple 'oh shut up' but I felt the need to say all of it. I was working on my communication skills. All part of being a better person or whatever. Also I was still feeling antsy over the whole 'I'm a stupid idiot who let the best thing in my life go' so I was determined to at least not let my best friend destroy himself.

"Okay," Dov sighed, letting me go. "I know. Sorry. I'm just…"

"Yeah. Me too."

I survived two more rants from Dov "he's a _cop_", "I just don't understand", "how could he do this?", "why didn't he talk to us?" and then fled when we reached the station. Parade was in five.

I checked the board and tried not to be too relieved when I wasn't paired with Dov. It was easy because I was paired with Nick and as much as I didn't quite hate him anymore I still wasn't overly fond.

"Hey. You and me today, partner." He smiled. I didn't smile. I wasn't a smiler. Unless, of course, I counted the time that I smiled atrociously and uncomfortably at Holly and since that didn't work out – it was creepy and weird and, as I mentioned before, uncomfortable, so of course it didn't work out – I had decided I was never smiling ever again.

"Yay," I said flatly. "You and me."

It all happened in a bit of a blur. We were answering a call. Stepping out of the squad. And then I couldn't hear anything because something was too loud. And I could see Nick's mouth moving but he wasn't saying anything, why wasn't he _saying_ anything? And then I could only see the sky and hey that cloud looked a bit like a puppy. And that's when I realised something was wrong. Because I had never in my life likened a cloud to a puppy.

That was when I felt the pain in my skull. From hitting the ground, most likely. And then it was like a rush, starting from my head and moving down my body and I could think and hear and feel properly. Immediately, I wished I couldn't.

Because my first thought was _fuck. I've been shot_.

Because the first thing I heard was the ringing in my ears and the thumping of my pulse and Nick's worried voice asking me to look at him, look at me Gail, _Gail, _look at me! And officer down, I repeat an officer has been shot. Requesting back up. Shooter has not been apprehended.

Because the first thing I felt, after the pounding in my head, was white-hot pain and then cold and then hot and then cold again and then not enough oxygen in my lungs and a gasping, drowning sensation that I knew was shock and fear and Nick's hands pressing down on me.

And my last conscious thought was _Stupid. Should have stayed in bed. _

**Continue? Let me know. I just had to write this after the new episode. I hope I did okay. Happy reading, readers :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**How Stupid Can I Be? Chapter Two**

**I don't own Rookie Blue.**

**So the response to this was incredible and I would feel like an ass if I didn't say thank you for that. This is your thank you. Please enjoy. **

Shot or not, I was a Peck. And that meant, shot or not, you show no weakness.

I've never been a particularly good Peck.

"_Fuck_," I groaned as I felt myself being tugged back up, out of that hazy, blissfully unconscious state. Nick pressed harder down onto the wounds. I groaned.

"Gail, we have to move. Gail?" He caught my eyes and I nodded. "We have to move behind the squad, okay?" I nodded again. "It's going to hurt."

"Stop fucking talking and just do it already, Collins, or you'll be next," I grunted, already pushing with my good leg to help. He gripped my shoulders and dragged and then we were leaning against the back of our squad. I pressed my hands to my hip and he pushed down onto my leg. I tried not to see the way blood steadily pumped out over my fingers and his. "I hate you so much," I said with hitched breath, letting my head roll back on my neck. Too much red. I looked up at the sky. "This is your fault."

"Sure it is," he agreed easily. "I mean, I might have enjoyed it more if the gun had actually been in my hand and without prints and witness statements you could never prove it," he grinned, eyes tight with worry, "but sure Gail. It's my fault."

Deep breaths. In and out. Ignore the warmth under my hands. "Ambulance?"

"On its way." More gun shots. Nick ducked his head but it sounded like they were smashing against the front of our squad. We were fine for the moment. Nick grabbed his radio. "ETA, Oliver?"

"Three minutes," came Oliver's lovely, worried voice.

"Ambulance?"

"They're another couple of minutes out."

"Okay. We aren't going anywhere." Nick smiled at me. I could practically see his mind racing for some way to distract me. "So," he said and I swear if he mentioned Holly I was going to get out my gun, shoot him, and somehow blame it on the guy who thought it would be a good idea to get on my bad side. "When we get this guy," he said with a nod, "what are you going to do to him?"

I was still ranting about my favourite ideas – torture, mostly, with a little bit of psychological warfare – when the ambulance arrived. They flung open the back doors and scurried over to us, lifting me bodily into the back of the bus.

"We should check for a traumatic head injury," I heard one of the idiots saying over me. He'd probably caught the tail end of my 'what I'd like to do to that asshole' rant.

"Nah," Nick denied, hopping in beside me without letting up the pressure for a moment. "That's just Gail. Let's go."

Everything began to blur a few moments later – sounds, sights, time – and I grabbed Nick's arm. He was already holding onto me but I twisted my hand to grip his sleeve. Those fucking sirens were killing me – oops, no, that would be the bullets actually – with their blaring and I was scared.

"Nick," I gasped through the mask.

"Gail, no, Gail just breathe okay?"

"Nick," I tried again. He leant in, probably realising that I wasn't going to relax. "I'd have been a terrible wife," I laugh/gasped. I stopped laughing immediately because it sent titan waves of pain through my body.

"No. You're going to make an awesome wife with someone Gail." He gripped tight to my hand. "And you're going to be a bitch and they're going to love it."

"Nick," I said then after another moment or maybe it was many moments. I couldn't be sure. "Nick."

"Yeah Gail?"

"Holly."

"I'll tell her. I'll call her as soon as we get there," he said reassuringly. As reassuring as he could be when his hands were covered in my blood and I was terrified and he was terrified, I guess. "Please, just breathe okay?"

"No," I said. This one thought was suddenly clear, the only clear thing in my mind. The rest was fear and flashing colours and sirens that scared me because now it was me inside the box hurtling toward the hospital and I clenched my eyes tight shut against the pain that made me whimper everytime I took in a breath. I clutched at him harder. I was about to go under again. I could feel it. "Don't tell her," I gasped out. "Please, don't tell her, don't tell her Nick. Please don't."

"What? Gail, I have to. You've been shot."

"Really? I couldn't tell. I thought it was just," I paused to grit my teeth and suck in a breath, "indigestion." Jokes aside, I tugged and pulled him closer to me. Eyes open, pleading, I tried again. It was the only thing I wanted. The _only_ thing. Aside from getting these bullets out and not dying. "Please Nick." I think I was crying. Of course I was crying. I'd been shot. I was still trying to wrap my head around that. "Please, Nick, don't tell her."

In the distance, or maybe it was very close by, I could hear another voice. "You have to get her to calm down, officer. She's losing too much blood."

"What do I do?"

"Just talk to her, get her to calm down. Otherwise she'll go into shock soon."

"Okay. Okay." That was Nick again. He had nice eyes. He must've been looking at me because I could see his nice eyes. "Gail," he was back with me. Looking at me. Hand on my hand. "Gail, I won't tell. I promise. I won't tell her, okay? Just breathe. Everything is going to be fine. Come on, partner. You and me. It's you and me today and it's going to be fine."

I think I managed squeeze of the hand. And then "we're almost there, officers," and then just the dark and a loud rushing in my ears.

* * *

The first time I woke, it was to a steady mumbling stream of no no no no no no no no and bleeding white walls and the taste of copper in my mouth and panic because were my hands strapped down oh god what was that sound where was it coming from I couldn't see anything why couldn't I see anything were those fucking tap shoes fuck he had me again I can't breathe I can't move fuck no no no no no

"Gail! Gail, calm down. _Gail_!" That wasn't Perrick. "I can't get her to calm down, help me. Gail, you need to stop! You're going to hurt yourself."

That was Nash. Traci. Traci and Jerry. Jerry. Jerry was gone, dead, dead. My fault. Oh god no. Traci. I bucked and twisted and ignored the fire that blossomed in my leg and side because pain wasn't important right now, right now I had to get to Traci. I had to get her out, away, no no I'm not going to let him hurt her she had to be okay she had a kid she'd lost so much already and me that was fine but I had to get up, get _up_ Peck, get up and fight him. Not Traci no please, not Traci, let her go

"Gail, shh. Relax. Everything is fine." But there was beeping, there was loud beeping, and then hurried footsteps and a wailing I could finally hear 'no please not Traci leave her alone, please don't hurt her, don't hurt her, it's me don't hurt her, don't you dare touch her you sick fuck' and was that me? I think that was me. Good. Go to hell, Perrick.

"You need to leave, detective. We need to sedate her or she's going to ruin all the work we did patching her up." And then a needle in my arm oh god inside of me what is it doing and I was slipping under again and I pulled, pulled away but there was no fighting it I couldn't get away and I just hoped Traci got away even if I was useless.

* * *

The second time I woke, it was to that same white ceiling and a heaviness in my head and limbs that meant when I turned to look at whose soft, warm hand was in mine, it was an awkward lolling of my head to the side.

"Hey there," came a quiet voice from my right. "You gave us quite a scare, Peck."

I blinked slowly, trying to get my eyes to focus. "I dreamt he had you," I mumbled around an unhelpful tongue. "You okay? Did he get you?"

Traci smiled. Sad smile? Was that sad? She laughed, why did she laugh? If she laughed then maybe she wasn't hurt. Good.

"I'm fine, Gail. I'm laughing because you are something else. Did you know that? You get shot and the first thing you do when you wake up is ask me how _I_ feel?" She chuckled and shook her head. "Thank God for Pecks."

"We are pretty amazing," I agreed, sleepiness and general ego making the statement matter-of-fact. I licked my lips and then, a moment later, felt the lip of a cup touching my mouth. Traci helped me drink. She didn't say a word as I took a mouthful, waited, swallowed, took another, and repeated until the cup was empty. And then her hand was back in mine and I smiled. "Steve?"

"He's getting coffee."

I nodded. My eyes drooped.

"Hey. Don't you dare go to sleep yet. Your brother wants to make sure you're okay too."

"Shouldn't have left then," I said. I could hear and feel a slur returning to my words. "M' leg hurts. Why does m' leg hurt?"

"You got shot," she said gently.

"Oh." I frowned. "Why does my hip hurt?"

"Because you got shot, Gail."

"Twice?" She nodded a yes. "Oh. Shit. Did you get him?"

"You bet, little sis," came probably my most favourite voice in the world.

"I love you," I said immediately, turning my stiff neck so it lolled to the other side. I smiled. Then I frowned. "Ugh, gross, who said that?"

"You did," he grinned. I pretended I didn't see a little tear. He must've been scared if he was crying. I wondered how bad it had been. "It was bad." Whoops, must've been talking out aloud. "She's on some good stuff, huh?" he said to Traci as he walked over and I hope they never break up because I like their smiles.

"Aww, thanks Gail. That's really sweet of you."

I groggily scowled up at my friend and brother and resolved not to think anything nice about them every again because apparently they'd gained psychic powers at some point and it wasn't fair.

"Go to sleep, Gail," Steve told me. He took my other hand. I nodded.

"Holly," I murmured. "Don't tell."

"Gail"

"Don't want her to worry. Don't want her to have to care." My words were slurring big time and I struggled against the drugs to get them out. I felt like the weight of them was sitting in my lungs and drowning me, suffocating me, and saying them relieved that a little. "Don't tell."

"Gail." Steve brushed my hair out of my eyes. Thank god. That had been annoying me. "She cares."

"Don't tell." Sleep was back now and I knew, even drugged up and exhausted I knew, that they were going to tell her. Traitors.

* * *

Third time's the charm. That's how the saying goes, isn't it? Well, this time it was true.

The third time I woke, she was there. She was asleep in the chair next to me and her hand lay limply on the bed. I wanted to be angry. I really did because most of my memories were fuzzy but I distinctly remembered telling everyone _not_ to tell Holly.

But there she was.

I don't know how long I lay there and just _looked_ at her. Probably a creepily long time. But I liked it because she was there and no matter how much I protested it, there was nothing I wanted more than Holly by my side. But I couldn't ask that of her because she wasn't mine and that wasn't fair to her and it was selfish of me and what was I supposed to do now?

She looked tired, I decided. And uncomfortable. And there was a little crease in her forehead that suggested a bad sleep. Hospitals should really invest in better chairs.

I thought for a moment about touching her hand or saying hello and waking her up but I couldn't. She looked so tired. And I wasn't sure that she had even meant to stay with me long enough to fall asleep. Most likely she hadn't – she had probably popped in to make sure I wasn't dead. Right? She is nice like that. But she's got someone else now so she had probably accidentally fallen asleep. So, instead of reaching out like I wanted to, I cautiously brought my hands up and away, onto my stomach. Mistake. That was a mistake. That _hurt_. The drugs made my hands feel I let them lie, then, by my side because my hip was aching unpleasantly and I just watched my hands to make sure they weren't too close to hers, that I wasn't bothering her.

A nurse came by at some point and I raised my hand to get her attention. "Could I get a pillow for her?" I asked quietly so Holly wouldn't wake up. The nurse looked about to disagree so I gave her a sweet smile. "I'm sure the officer would appreciate it." The woman's eyes moved to my badge on the table next to me and nodded. She tucked a pillow behind Holly's head and I hoped that would help.

I drifted off slowly this time, slipping beneath the darkness rather than being yanked underneath. My hand crept a tiny bit closer to Holly's but even delirious and almost unconscious as I was, I didn't let it touch.

* * *

"Oh come off it, Gail, it's not our fault. We didn't tell her." Steve and Traci were standing at the end of my bed, almost identical crossed arms and stubborn frowns. "She's not exactly stupid," Traci pointed out.

"She's a doctor. Definitely not stupid."

"Officers under fire and officer down were all over the radio when it happened – of course she was going to hear about it. And all of your friends were missing from the station when she came by."

"Plus, she's nice so she's friends with a lot of people. Of course she was going to come by and see who it was." Steve shook his head slowly. "You should have seen it, Gail. She walked into that waiting room and we were all sitting there quietly freaking out because you'd been in surgery for ages by then. Half of fifteen was there."

"Everyone stood up when she came in."

"There were a few guilty looks."

"Just a few," Traci agreed. Then she sighed. "We all know what she means to you and I guess when she saw us doing that and she couldn't see you, I guess she just knew then. She's strong though. And scary. She found Oliver and demanded he tell her everything."

"You should've heard her, little sis. Why hadn't she been told straight away? Eight goddamn hours and she was only finding out now? Let me into that room right now. She wasn't happy when she found out that you told Nick and me and Trace not to say anything. She was really not happy."

I frowned at the ceiling. It was taking too much energy to tilt my head up that little bit to glare at my friend and brother. "Is she still here?"

"Probably. Somewhere. She saw you were waking up and she came and got me."

"She left me?" I asked and I cringed a little at how little my voice was and how obviously upset. Damn those drugs.

"You didn't want her here to start with," Steve reminded me.

I laughed at that, immediately regretting it when it sent shockwaves of pain through my abdomen. "Always want her here," I mumbled through pain-stiff lips. "Always."

"Then why'd you tell us to leave her out? That wasn't a great thing to do." Traci frowned slowly, carefully, as if sympathetic and ready to listen. It was her 'I'm here for you' mom look. "Are you angry with her because you guys broke up?"

"No." I wasn't. I really wasn't. I totally understood that – me an asshole, her awesome. We didn't go together. Steve's phone rang and he held it up apologetically. I waved him away. Then it was just me and Traci and I sighed very carefully, trying not to move my abdomen. "I just didn't want her to be upset. She shouldn't have to be here, be near me, just because I was stupid enough to get shot."

"Someone attacked you. That's not you being stupid. And she's your friend, of course she's going to want to know that you're okay when you're hurt."

"She's the most wonderful person, Trace," I said. I blinked up at the ceiling. The moisture that leaked from my eyes – just a tiny bit – were because my eyes were reacting weirdly to the drugs. Maybe I was allergic. They weren't tears.

"I know. You've told me that."

"Oh. I'm not."

"Gail-"

"I'm not. I'm mean and cold and stupid and scared. She can't be here."

"Do you want me to get her to leave?"

"No. No, I have to do that bit right. I'll thank her and tell her it's okay to leave. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You should know then that I think you're being stupid. She loves you. But fine. Figure it out, Peck."

"Traci?"

"Yeah Gail?"

"You're one of my best friends. You know that?"

"Yes Gail," she said, smirking. "But you usually don't say nice things like that so you must be on some really nice drugs, huh?"

"The best."

"Okay. I'll find her. Sit tight."

"Yes ma'am." And then, when Traci was almost out of the room, a thought occurred to me and I called out to her, panicked. "Traci! How do I sit tight?"

She sighed. "Just stay there, okay? And try not to move. You'll hurt yourself."

"Oh. Okay."

Some time later – a few minutes? Longer? – I was staring at the blank ceiling, feeling oddly content with that view even though I knew I should be bored out of my mind.

Then she said "Hey" and I tensed at the unexpected intrusion and groaned. I tried to cover my wince but I obviously didn't do a good job of it because Holly was by my side in a second, hands hovering by my side carefully but not touching.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I should have knocked or something. Do you need a doctor? Should I call the nurse? Do you think you popped your stiches? How bad does it feel, one to ten? Is it bleeding? Did you feel a pull at all in the area?" I let her ramble, just smiling.

"I'm fine," I said when she took a breath. "Plus, you're a doctor aren't you? You could totally deal with it if something went wrong."

"I work on dead people. It's not the same thing." She took a step back. Those hands that had just been fluttering over and around me, worried, cautious, tucked themselves into her pockets.

"Meh. A doctor is a doctor." I shrugged and then winced/sighed because that was a stupid thing to do when even breathing was painful. "I'm okay, you know," I offered quietly. "Really. I'm all patched up and it barely hurts and I'll be back on the streets in no time."

She laughed. But her eyes were sad. "That's not reassuring, Gail. You got shot on the streets, remember?"

"Right. Well, anyway, my point is thank you for, ah, coming to check on me but I'm fine."

"Oh." Her eyes widened a little and curse these drugs because I couldn't decipher her expression or her tone when she said, "You want me to go". Was it a question? A statement? How the hell was I supposed to answer her?

Yes? That would be a lie but it would give her an out so maybe that was the right thing to do.

No? That would be selfish and I didn't want to put her on the spot, knowing that I wanted her, wanted her to stay, and her having to and wanting to leave.

So I picked a slightly painful middle ground. I shrugged again, not letting any pain show on my face – that showed her that I being casual and grownup about everything and also that I was physically fine, that it was practically painless. "I don't mind," I said. It might be the cowards' way out, making her choose. But _I_ certainly couldn't make that decision even though I knew I should make her leave. So I just looked down at my blankets and plucked at them as if they were the most interesting things I had ever seen. Or at the very least, as if they were more interesting than Holly.

She settled into the chair again. I tried not to be too happy about it. That failed. I at least tried not to show it. "Your brother is getting coffee," she said. "And I think he's sneaking you in some pudding."

"You're staying until he gets back then?" I said, super casual tone activated. "You don't have to."

"I will, it's okay."

"Okay."

"Okay then."

We sat in silence, me never looking up from the blankets and trying not to breathe too loudly in case it made her leave, and Holly doing whatever it is that Holly did. Steve stepped into the room and cleared his throat, clearly awkward.

"Hey."

"Hey," I answered him.

Holly just nodded as she grabbed her bag and sped out of my room. Steve barely stepped aside in time. Her shoulder still brushed against him as she practically ran away.

"You're pouting," he told me, sitting down.

"You could have walked slower, you know."

"Well _sorry,_" he said with a huff. "How was I supposed to know that your Holly was here and that she would leave the second I got in?"

I turned to look wistfully out the doorway. "That was probably the last time I ever see Holly and now she's gone." I grabbed one of the pudding cups that he offered. I ate it with melancholic slurps. "My life sucks. I got shot and Holly's gone forever."

"I doubt it. She'll be back."

"No she won't."

"Yes she will."

"No she won't."

"Yes she will."

"No she won't." When he opened his mouth to respond again, I groaned. "I'm on drugs, Steve, and I'm so bored that I really will say no she won't seven million billion times just to beat you. Just shut up."

"Okay." He sipped his coffee. "_Yes she will_," he whispered very quietly. I pretended I didn't hear him but left it hanging out there because hey, maybe it would bring me some good luck and she actually would come back, just because my brother told me she would. I could always hope.

"So tell me more about my most recent battle wounds. What happened?"

Steve's face fell into seriousness and he ran his hand through his hair. "What do you remember?"

"Umm…stepping out of the car. Two shots. Then Nick dragged me around the back of the car and," I frowned. "Nothing. That's it." Not quite. There was a hazy memory of yelling and sirens and a jolting ride on a gurney through white halls.

"Okay. Well, turns out some guy had holed himself up in the warehouse you went to check out. Made it into some kind of lair."

"Creepy." I shifted in my bed and held my breath, not wanting to gasp or groan or do anything that meant Steve would be hovering like a worried older brother for a good ten minutes. Successful, I glowered at the ceiling. "And he shot me?"

"Yeah."

"Surgery?"

"Ten hours. You crashed twice."

"Okay." I looked down at the crisp white bandages. "How bad?"

"The one to your leg was a through and through. Not too bad. The second one they're watching to make sure it doesn't go septic. It was pretty deep in your bone so it's going to be painful. You'll need some PT."

"Joy. I'm so looking forward to it."

Steve just smiled at my sarcasm. "You'll also need someone to look after you," he said.

"Not Mom. Please, anyone but Mom."

His grin, when it finished its slow spread across his lips, was pure evil. "I thought you might say that." He pressed a button on his phone. "Because Traci and I had an idea."

**There you go. Sorry for any mistakes, I am very tired. You guys have been amazing. Please continue to let me know what you thought. Happy reading, readers :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**How Stupid Can I Be? Chapter Three**

**I don't own Rookie Blue.**

**I borrowed a line one of you left in my reviews – I hope that is okay? Thank you to KMS1995. Please enjoy. **

Steve's plan was exactly as stupid as I thought it would be. Very, very, very, very, very, _very_ stupid. The plan was exactly as stupid as Steve's face. Plus the smile he was wearing was extra stupid, which meant in its entirety, the plan was a little more stupid than six very stupids.

"This isn't okay, Steve! You can't just _make_ Holly take care of me!" I struggled to sit up in my bed and batted away a well-meaning hand from Traci.

"Relax, Gail. It's fine."

"It's not _fine_, Traci! God." I shook my head and made the most disgusted sound I could. Then a sigh. Then a grunt when the sigh twinged my side. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because." Traci smiled that mom smile of hers. This one was the 'I know better than you' smile. Leo and I hated it. "We know you. And we know that you aren't over Holly. She makes you smile and you're sweet and thoughtful and you can try to act like you're moving past it but-"

"I'm not," I said firmly. "I'm really not. Over her. Or even _trying_ to get over her. But she is." I managed to say that like those weren't some of the hardest words I'd ever uttered. "She's seeing someone else now because I was an idiot and blew up our relationship and I am not going to be that stupid cop who got shot and then begs for her to take me back because I can't look after myself."

"Gail."

Oh boy. Stern big brother tone. "Shut it, Steve. You can't tell me you didn't expect it too. I stuff shit up. We both know that."

"Gail," he tried again.

"Steve. I expected it. I'm fine. So no, screw your plan – I'm not going to do that to Holly. Find someone else to look after me."

"There is no one else," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. Then he focused that super steady Peck detective gaze on me and I froze. "Everyone we know is a cop. Everyone. We have crazy hours. Problems of our own."

"Great. Now I'm a problem." Actually that wasn't a new idea. But still, I folded my arms over my chest in a pantomime of huffiness and aggression. It lacked a little due to the fact that I had to move really, really slowly so not to hurt myself. It was the thought that counts, in my opinion.

"That's not what I meant. I meant, we can't look after you. What if something happens to you while we're on shift?" I acknowledged that with a sort of grumble and half shrug. "Exactly. So it's either you stay with Holly or you stay with mom and as I seem to recall, your words were 'not mom, anyone but mom'. Pick your poison."

I fought against the pull of the drugs that made me want to make the decision that was oh so tempting rather than the right one. And despite how oh so tempting it was, I only had to think about the choices for a quarter of a heartbeat before I shrugged and said "Okay. I'll go with Mom."

That above any other argument I might have made let Steve see how serious I was about this. About Holly. About Holly not having to look after an infirm, weak-bodied, weak-hearted little me who will be extra irritable from pain and probably a major bitch. About admitting I was wrong for her right now and despite every part of me of course wanting Holly to look after me, I wouldn't do that it her. To say yes to mom, well. It meant I was serious. My mother has a lot of character flaws. Don't misunderstand. She has a lot of good points too: determination, courage, intelligence, fairness, calm under pressure, loyalty. They made her an excellent cop and an incredible Superintendent. Truly, one of the best. But…she kind of wasn't the best mother.

"Are you serious?" he asked, slumping into the chair next to me. He propped his elbows on his knees. I nodded. "Okay." He rubbed a hand over his eyes – bruised, I realised, from lack of sleep – and through his hair. I almost felt bad for ruining his fabulous plan. He looked exhausted. Who actually knew how long he had been by my side? Because to me it felt like forever. "Okay. I'll let mom know and she'll make arrangements."

"Thank you."

"Oh don't thank me." And _there_ was his normal mischievous grin, flickering at the edges of his lips. I'd never admit it but it was reassuring. "I'll be collecting bets from 15 on how long you'll last with mom. And I'm sure there'll be a couple of outcomes bet on as well. I'm thinking a few some basic categories to get us started. Maiming, explosives, insanity, loss of limbs, intense emotional and mental warfare ending in a psychotic break." I rolled my eyes so hard they felt like they were about to break and roll right out of my head. "What do you think, Trace?"

"I'll put money on homicide." She grinned at a sudden thought and raised her brows. "Would I get a pay rise if I had to investigate a Peck death?"

"I'll see what I can do."

I groaned. "Gross. Please don't flirt over the top of me."

"Where else are we going to do it?

"Umm I don't know maybe absolutely anywhere else so that I, the injured party, doesn't have to be witness to all these disgusting shows of affection?" I waved my hands. "Go away."

"But"

"Go. _Away," _I said again, enunciating the words. "I will be fine for the whole ten minutes it takes for you two to do a little kissing." I pulled my blanket up and over my face. "Please go away now."

"Aww, did you hear that Trace? She said please," Steve teased. "She's learning manners."

"_Please_ go and punch yourself in the face," I grumbled through the fabric, trying not to smile.

"Alright Pecks," Traci intervened. "That's enough. Gail, we should go and you should sleep. Steve, leave your sister alone." When he started whining about not wanting to leave, I heard a yelp that told me she probably had a firm grip on his ear. "Goodnight Gail."

"Night Trace. Sleep well."

"Oh we will," Steve called back to me.

"Gross!"

* * *

I couldn't be certain how long it was, the drugs and constant lights in the ICU throwing my body clock on its head, but I estimated a day or two passed quickly. I slept, ate, slept some more, woke to a nurse who apparently delighted in the fact that she had the worst bedside manner of all time – and this might have been the drugs talking but I swear she smiled when she stuck me with those needles – and slept some more. Steve and Traci were pretty much a constant but when they weren't I had a few visitors. Nick, a couple of times. Andy and Sam as well – Sam to offer his advice, having been shot himself, which mainly consisted of him sitting cockily back in his chair and saying shit like 'try not to itch it, Peck' and 'maybe don't get shot again'. Dov came by once – that was super, _incredibly_ maudlin. I was coming down from the dugs so my hip had been aching something terrible and Dov had just sat by my bed for over half an hour before offering a quiet "He went to the clinic."

"And?"

A shrug. He continued staring at his boots.

"Dov. He's going to be okay." Another shrug: this one somehow angry and unconvinced. "Dov, look at me." I covered a wince when my hip burned at the way I turned, facing my friend. "Chris is going to be okay. He's had the crappiest of all crappy years. His son isn't his son. There's been some," I laughed here. Not happy laughter though, "truly phenomenal screw-ups at work and he screwed up." Dov winced and I moved on. Obviously, pointing out the harsh truth wasn't helping. It was pretty much the only thing I was good at but I gave reassurance a try. "He's in a clinic. He's got help. He has you, me, all of his friends. He's going to be okay."

Dov looked a little more settled by the time I was finished talking. Like he wasn't jumping out of his skin with worry any more. He gave me a smile, admittedly weak, and nodded. "You're right. But hey – how are you?"

"Eh." I shrugged. "Speaking of drugs. The ones I'm getting are _amazing_. You should get shot. Try them out. Hey," I said, excited. "I'll shoot you and then you can try them out."

"You got another dose," he guessed.

"Yep. And it's good. So no shooting?" I asked for confirmation.

"I'll pass."

"Fine." A sniff. "Whatever. But you're missing out."

"Hey, maybe another time," he said with a grin. "I don't want to steal your thunder. You keep the flesh wounds and I'll try something a little safer. Like caffeine." When I practically salivated at the thought, he grinned. "Coffee is _so_ good. Did you want some?" He pretended to think about that for a moment. "Oh. Wait. I'm pretty sure the nurse explicitly said you weren't allowed to have coffee. What a shame."

"I know I didn't just hear you teasing my girl, Epstein," same a stern voice. I brightened immediately and pushed up from the bed, sitting up.

"Ollie!"

"Gail!" Oliver returned my overly enthusiastic greeting, stepping into my room. Celery lingered behind him. I waved, and she returned it, but she came no closer.

"Is she okay?" I asked him very quietly, seeing how she leant heavily against the wall and fiddled with her charm bracelet.

"Yeah," he said instantly. "Yeah, of course." Then, quietly, "No. She doesn't really like hospitals." Dov nodded sympathetically, also cutting a quick glance to Oliver's girlfriend.

"You know what?" Dov said, standing. He hitched his belt up a little, touching gun and radio as we always did. "I'm going to talk to Celery. Maybe we could grab some food at the diner. There's a great one a block away." He waited for Oliver to accept that, lingering.

"Yeah. Yeah, good idea Epstein. Thanks."

I pretended I didn't hear the way Dov murmured to Oliver a quiet 'she's totally doped up, Oliver' and that I didn't see the way my friend and mentor nodded quickly and clapped Dov on the shoulder. I do know that I silently agreed with Oliver not to speak until both of them were gone. Dov was nice. He greeted Celery with a friendly smile and a happy invitation for food. We watched them go and waved when they waved.

"So, what?" I said after a moment. "Not enough magic in hospitals for her?" I asked. Not cruelly because, well, Celery was pretty cool and I wasn't doped up enough yet to think insulting my friends was a good idea. "Too much science?"

He snorted. Shook his head. "No. They remind her of when I got taken," he said quietly. I swallowed. Oh. "But hey," Oliver said, perking up considerably. "I brought you donuts."

"Yes!" I struggled into a better position, thrilled. And then, surprise surprise, the one bright point in my day was ripped away with his next words.

"But the nurse confiscated them."

My eyes narrowed. "The one with the mean squint?" I asked. "And the freakishly still hair?"

"That looks like she just dunked her head in hairspray?" Oliver continued, nodding furiously. "Yep. That's the one. Sorry."

"Don't be." I glowered out the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Nurse Ratched wannabe. "I'll figure something out."

* * *

Breathe. In and out. Ignore the hole in your side, Gail. It's not important. What is important is to keep breathing, keep moving. And don't get caught.

I focused slightly bleary eyes on the target. They probably shouldn't have left me alone. 'They' being the nurses. And also my friends. They should've known pumped up on drugs and with the lure of donuts nearby that I would do something like this. But hey, at least overflowing with painkillers meant that I could barely feel the legs I was shuffling around on.

I shuffled closer, pressing myself against the wall. Get in. Get out. Not a difficult task, surely. I had to think carefully about every action. Donut hunting is serious business. For a cop, it wasn't hugely difficult. I couldn't duck and roll but I could shush a junior nurse and fix her with a glare and then grab the donuts off Nurse Ratched's desk.

I was almost back in my room when it happened. When she happened. I ran straight into that familiar body and, seeing the nurse making her way around the corner, I had to make a quick decision between getting caught and touching Holly. Also, loosing the donuts. Choice made. I pushed Holly into an alcove and clutched the box to my chest. When she tried to speak, I pushed my hand against her mouth and shook my head.

I shushed her and held her close against the wall. I listened carefully as Nurse Ratched strode past, wheeling her instruments of discomfort. Then I smiled at my…friend. "Hey Holly. Whatcha doing?"

"Me?" she shrieked quietly. "What are _you_ doing? You've been shot. You shouldn't be out of bed."

"Yep." I peeked out but the corridor was clear. "Let's go." I held my prize close and wrapped my hand around Holly's, tugging her into the corridor. "So. Whatcha doing?" I asked again.

"Keeping an eye on you, apparently. Your brother said we needed to talk and with you immobile it would be easier. I guess he didn't count on the fact that you think donuts are more important than your leg."

"Huh. He's a dick." I selected a beautiful looking donut. Sprinkles and all. Chocolate. I smiled blissfully and stuffed it in my mouth. "Oh my god. Oh god. This is amazing. I love you so much," I told the pastries. "Never leave me again." When I looked up from my box, Holly was staring at me with a grumpy, amused, annoyed, worried, still amused kind of expression." I jerked my head. "Let's go. My room's just down here."

A few shuffles later and we were at the door and, with a quick look around, inside again. Hopefully with no one – particularly the nurse – any the wiser.

"Are you crazy?" Holly was whisper-shouting at me the second the door was closed. "You got _shot_, Gail! In the leg!"

"And in the hip. Don't forget the hip," I said as I eased myself slowly, oh so slowly, onto the bed. When I got there, perched on the edge, I decided that was as far as I wanted to go. It wasn't so much as it hurt too much to continue, per se, because I would never admit to that but rather that I wanted to stay exactly where I was – perched uncomfortably, with my arm wrapped around my donuts. "Donut?"

"_No I don't want a donut,_" Holly hissed. She paced for a little while and from the occasional grumble I heard and the flailing hands, I assumed she was ranting to herself.

"Holly," I said around my delicious, delicious donut. She stopped pacing and glared over at me. I smiled sweetly. "Come sit with me."

"I'm not going to sit with you, Gail."

Oh. Right. We aren't dating. "If it makes you feel any better, I am as high as a kite over here," I waved a hand, "and I won't remember a thing so you won't have to do the whole 'I only sat with you because you were sad and got shot and it didn't mean anything for us' talk."

She frowned and looked over to the corner, where I had pointed. "There is no kite over there."

"Perfect. See? I must be super high then."

"What?" She shook her head as if to get rid of confusing thoughts. "No. Okay, that's not why I won't get into bed with you. You're injured. I could hurt you."

"Maybe. But consider this." I mulled over my words for a second and, convinced that it would be fine because I probably wouldn't remember saying it so I wouldn't suffer nasty post-speech embarrassment, I proceeded. "What if I told you spending a single second away from you was more agonising than getting shot? And what if I told you that with you standing right over there it's too far away because you could be right _here,_" I said, patting the bed next to me, "But you choose to be over there. And what if I told you it's actually painful to see you upset."

She looked like she was about to cry. But then, "Gail. You're high. You don't mean this."

"I mean everything." In for a penny, in for a pound. Right? Right. I steeled myself for another drugged confession ramble. "I'm loopy, yeah, but also incredibly fearless because for some reason I have this stupid optimistic feeling that everything is okay. And you _know_ I'm never optimistic because I hate it when shit goes down inevitably." She nodded dumbly. "But whether I like it or not, I am optimistic and fearless right now so I'm going to tell you that the thing that was absolutely the _most_ painful thing ever was being apart from you and not seeing you for the last three weeks. I wanted to talk to you so bad but every time I saw that it was you calling I had a panic attack because I kept thinking this it is, this is the time you break up with me, this is the time you realise you don't want to go through all this shit to be with someone like me, this is the end. And I was an asshole because I was scared and trying to delay that." Matter-of-fact tone, direct, to the point, truthful. I nodded. Not a bad confession. And barely any of the words were slurred. Success.

"Gail," she breathed.

"Holly," I replied. She said my name; I said her name. It had a nice balance to it. "You have a really nice name. Holly," I said again, admiringly. "I kind of want to say it forever, you know?" I munched on my donut. Then I blurted out, "Hello by the way. Thank you for visiting me." Manners. I didn't have any, clearly. I should have thanked her straight away. Stupid.

"Of course I'm going to visit you. Even if you tell your friends not to tell me." She looked furious. I swallowed the remainder of my first donut and lowered the box to my side. "Why the hell would you tell them to do that?" Holly asked.

"I didn't want you to worry."

"I am going to worry about you, Gail. I'm a decent human being – even if I barely knew you I would still be worried. Because you got _shot_," she reminded me.

"It doesn't mean you should worry more than you have to," I countered. But perhaps it was my ego speaking then, thinking that she would care more about me than some other stranger who had been shot. No. We had dated. She had liked me. That hadn't been fake. It couldn't have been. If it had all been one-sided, then I would be terrified by the extent that I could actually feel. Something I hadn't been sure I _could_ do. "Speaking of worrying about me," I said. "My brother wants you to look after me. When I leave. The hospital, I mean."

"Yes. I know. He called me," she said slowly and quietly. Her eyes stayed on me. I could feel them on me even when I looked away to search through the pastries again. What did it mean? Her tone, her stare… I wasn't sure. I knew what I wanted it to mean.

"Right. Well, you don't have to do that."

"I know."

"Good." What did that mean? 'I know'. Had she even entertained the idea?

"What do you want?" she asked. "Do you want me to look after you?"

I avoided eye contact for as long as possible. I tilted my head to the side, examining the floor tiles. Gross. How many people had been sick on this floor? I let my imagination conjure images of dozen of sick and dying and bleeding people before freaking out and shaking those thoughts away. Then I remembered Holly was still here and I was trying to be a better person, more open, less cold, and however regretful it would make me, more honest. "I've already said a bunch of stuff today because I'm high. That doesn't sound good," I frowned. "I'm not saying it because I'm high – I'm telling you about it because I'm high but I'm saying it and thinking it and feeling it because it's true, you know?"

"Right." Holly sat down and looked at me. Really _looked_ at me. Past cursory examination of tired eyes and what I'm sure was incredibly gross, lank hair and the bandages on my hip and leg and all that. "But honey," she said and I was thrown back to the bathroom, with my hair clutched in my hand and a bottle at my feet and scissors gleaming prettily on the counter and her with her stupid eyes and stupid, calming, smart, lovely voice and patience and all I wanted was for her to help me again and put me back together again and help me cut away all those things that I didn't need, that I hid behind – and yeah, okay, maybe that was a very literal translation of cutting my hair off and maybe I'd just done it because I'd freaked out but those were excellent reasons as well. I wanted her to help me but this time…I couldn't. I couldn't rely on her because she wasn't here, not completely, and that was my fault. For the first time, it had to be me who picked up the pieces and it had to be me to fix it. If I wanted to. And god…I really, really did. "But honey," she said, "what is _it_? That you're feeling?"

I played with my blankets for a moment. "I want, there's this, if you…" I frowned. Telling the truth was _hard_. Words stuttered behind my lips stupidly and I couldn't quite force them out. I was thinking too much. Too much. Just say it, Gail. "I want a milkshake." Not quite what I had wanted to say but still undeniably true. "No. Sorry. You. We were talking about you."

"We were talking about what you wanted," Holly corrected.

"Right. So we were talking about you." I felt a blush splash itself across my face. "That's not what I meant," I excused my words when Holly blinked and leant back. "I meant that I, uh, I want you to be happy and safe and not worrying about me. I don't want you to have to look after me. Or to have my brother pressuring you into doing stuff." Holly was silent for a long time after that so I nudged her chair with my toes. "Okay? So don't worry about whatever he threatened you with." I deflected her 'how did you know?' look with a 'come on are you serious? I know how my brother works' glare. "I've got some blackmail on him so I can get-"

"Gail." Her voice was strong. And stern. I met her eyes carefully. "It's not a problem."

"Yeah, of course not. Because I'll _make_ him not be a problem. Steve is an ass sometimes but he knows when to back off and-"

"No, Gail, I mean that of course I'll look after you. You are not a problem." I froze mid-word. I probably looked ridiculous, staring at Holly with an open mouth and confusion pulling my brows together.

"Wait. What?"

"You _hate_ staying with your mother and I know that's who you're going to have to put up with if you aren't with me. But," she continued, cutting off whatever I was going to say. "That's not why I would look after you. Though I think I might be a little hurt that you would choose her over me." There was a hint of teasing in her voice.

I smiled. "It's quiet at home," I made the excuse for her. "Good for resting."

"You hate her though." She looked down at her hands. "Do you hate me?"

"No."

"Okay. Well then I'm just going to say that I know you think I don't _have_ to be here and I don't _have_ to worry about you or look after you but Gail, I do. When I head…when I thought there was even the slightest chance that you might be hurt, I was here. I was right here Gail. I didn't even think about not coming. And did you know that the guest room is already set up? You came out of surgery and I went home to prepare everything because I forget that we, that we," she shook her head and moved on. "And Dov and Chris wouldn't be able to look after you or any of your cop friends because, well, they're cops, and I thought it was logical for me to do it. Because I forgot. Gail," she murmured. "We're friends." I blinked and did nothing else, didn't show that it was a kick to the stomach. Friends. Right. "And I want to look after you. You might not think that I have to and that's fine, I can't explain it anyway, but I do want to." She reached out slowly and touched my knee. "Now I want to know what _you_ want. Can you tell me that?"

I bit my lip. We were friends. We talk. I am being honest. True. Good. Loyal. Kind. The kind of Gail Peck that Holly deserved, even if we weren't meant to be. And to hear that she'd already prepared to take me home without being asked, to hear that she wanted to help me…it felt good.

The words came out in a rush and I felt my cheeks heat up as I stumbled a few times over the sharper syllables, and let the soft sounds run together a little in minor slurs, needing the words out_ right. Now._ "I don't want to stay with my mother she is so mean she sucks at looking after people I would probably die of starvation the only thing she cooks is eggs and I don't like eggs but even I know that they are bad eggs so so bad she sucks at cooking and she won't remember that I'm injured she'll leave me alone and I'd have to fend for myself."

Holly smiled a tiny smile. I tried to return it. Even when I felt like this was way too much, like she knew too much. She felt like the only person who could see me. Maybe it was those nerdy glasses. They gave her x-ray vision. Peck vision. Or maybe it was the fact that she persistently and kindly refused to take any shit and waited to sneak around any barriers I might have.

I liked the idea of nerdy x-ray glasses better.

"So you'll stay with me?"

I shrugged. "Is it okay with…" I stopped. I didn't know her name. The woman she was seeing. "With your person," I finished awkwardly. "Is it okay?"

"It's my home," Holly said firmly. Her eyes flashed with a hard kind of light and then she forced a smile. It was pathetic. I saw right through it. She was sad. And a little scared. And worried. And guilty? "And I'm not going to turn you away, given that the alternative is that you'll kill or be killed with your mother."

"We aren't that bad," I grumbled. She eyed me and I felt a smirk slip out. "Okay, yeah. We are."

"Yeah that's what I thought."

"What is it about you, Stewart?" I mused as I inched back onto my mattress, leaning into the pillows. I placed the donuts on the bedside table. "I can't seem to lie to you." Shaking my head, I stared at the ceiling. It was still nice and white. That was good. Solid. Reliable. Unlike my traitorous tongue.

"A good power to have," she winked. Then she took full advantage of it. "While you're suffering from the truth serum then, Peck, can I ask you a question?"

"I'd probably think less of you if you didn't take advantage, to be honest." I nodded. "Go ahead."

"Do you want to stay with me? Don't think about me. Just you. Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Okay then." She smiled tentatively – I could see the pull at her lips though, urging the smile wider. Why didn't she smile as fully as she wanted to? I loved that smile. Wide and bright and beaming at me and looking for all the world like a star would look, blazing out of her skin. She pulled out her phone and moved to the door.

"What are you doing?" I asked, sitting up hurriedly despite the shocking pain. I was frantic. She couldn't leave. Not yet. I hadn't looked at her nearly enough, heard her voice enough, seen her smile quite as much as I would like.

"I'm going to call Steve."

"_Steve_? No," I groaned. "He's such an ass. And I just got rid of him and Traci this morning. If you call them back they'll flirt all around me and it's creepy and gross."

She cracked a smile and, returning for a moment to my bedside, touched my cheek gently and that was better than any cocktail of drugs they could shove at me. "I'm calling him to let him know that you'll be staying with me."

"Right now?" I struggled to stand.

She pushed me, gently, right back down. "No. When they release you tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh. How far away is that? Because it sounds like fun. Can it be now?"

"No honey. Tomorrow. But if you go to sleep now, tomorrow will come faster."

"That a big, fat lie. But I accept your proposal because at least I'll be unconscious until it happens." She smiled and waited until I was lying flat, under the sheets, and had pronounced myself as comfortable as I was going to get in the stupidly hard bed. She was almost out of the room when I had a swooping, dangerous feeling in my stomach and I called out. "Holly?"

"Yeah?" She turned, smiling. At me. I held the warmth of that smile, metaphorically, in my chest. A little tiny warmth. I needed its reassurance to ask the next question.

I clutched the blankets tight between my fingers and looked up at the ceiling, hoping the burning in my eyes wouldn't translate into tears yet. "Are you really going to be here tomorrow?" I asked quietly.

"Gail." She waited until I looked at her. "Yes. I will be here tomorrow. And I will put you in my car and I will take you to my house and I will look after you."

"Promise?"

"I promise." She smiled. "And if you need me, just call."

"Yeah no, I'm not going to do that. Sick people touch these phones, Holly." With a last teasing roll of the eyes, Holly was gone. I watched her leave and long minutes later, I tilted my head back to smile sadly at the roof and prepared to berate myself for a very, very long time.

It was a stupid idea. I wondered again whether she would even show up. And when she did, what would she say? And if we did make it to the part where she took me to hers – doubtful, considering that I'm an ass – going to stay with her was a thoroughly stupid idea. A terrible, no good, dirty, rotten idea. And when she _did_ end up leaving me or kicking me out, it would be even worse.

She was worth it though.

I hope.

**I hope you liked it and please let me know. Your responses are incredible, thank you all so much. It astounds me. Happy reading, readers :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**How Stupid Can I Be? Chapter Four**

**I don't own Rookie Blue.**

**This one is fairly long and it's done in blocks. It covers quite a bit of time because I felt it was all related enough to be done in one chapter. Please enjoy.**

She's probably not coming.

I was annoyed at myself for looking at the clock again. It had been seven minutes since the last time I looked at it, that stupid clock. It was a bland thing, all white with a black minute and hour hand and a stationary red second hand that ticked atrociously loudly in the otherwise mostly quiet waiting room. Right. Waiting room. Because it was a hospital. And people were waiting to hear about their loved ones – whether they were okay or not. Or, if you were me, you were waiting for someone to come pick you up. But they hadn't come yet.

She probably wasn't going to come.

Everyone who came through those doors – they opened with a swoosh each time and it made me so inexplicably annoyed – who wasn't Holly was treated to an extra long glare. Time crawled by, ticked its way through the minutes. I tapped my fingers, flicked through the pile of magazines on the rack next to me, and checked out the dead and dying plant life dotted around the room – anything to make the waiting seem bearable. But I kept finding my eyes being drawn back to that clock. Thirty-six minutes late.

She's almost definitely not coming.

I pursed my lips and considered the bag sitting on my lap. My phone was in there, somewhere. I could call someone to get me. Steve. Steve would come but he would be upset about it. My mother. Ew. That thought made me shudder. She's not coming. I wouldn't ask her to do that. But I _should_ call someone. The hospital people wanted me gone – no surprises there. I probably wasn't the best patient. I should call someone…and yet my hand remained conspicuously distant from my bag.

Just a few more minutes. She promised. She promised she would come.

So I waited because, despite knowing that I wasn't worth it, I still hoped she would come. I waited. And waited. Later, with head bowed and fingers laced together tight so they wouldn't tap anything, I had been moved to the corner for being 'in the way' – my apologies for being _shot_ while on _duty_ as a _police officer_ making this city a safer place for you! – I looked up to the clock again for what felt like the seven hundredth time. She hadn't come yet. She was almost two hours late. My side was aching something fierce and I bit the inside of my cheek. I was certain, so certain, that she wasn't coming and two hours was a stretch. My hands moved for my bag, my phone.

And then the doors opened and I started my glaring as I had for everyone who dared enter who wasn't Holly but the glare slid from my face when frantic Holly, frantic, windblown, wide-eyed Holly jogged in with apologies already tripping from her lips. She fell to a knee in front of my wheelchair – her eyes had locked onto me the second she entered – and I felt my eyes widen in surprise at the gesture. She looked me over, head to toe, and I sat still for the inspection. Her knuckles were white on the arms of my chair. I held tight to my bag, weaving my hands around the strap, because I needed to hold something because she was here, in front of me, here even though it took two hours of ticking clocks and decrepit plant life, and if I didn't hold my bag I would hold her and that was not okay.

"I'm sorry, Gail, I'm so so sorry," she said over and over again. "I'm sorry. My intern, he, god, he's so incredibly idiotic and he misfiled everything and I had to fix it, I'm so sorry, I had to fix it all before I left. I know I'm late, I'm so late," she chanced a look down at her watch and winced, "I am _so_ late and I'm sorry, I didn't want to be. I really didn't mean to leave you but my phone, I really have no idea where my phone is-"

"Okay," I murmured.

Holly stuttered to a stop and searched my face, my eyes. "Okay?" She didn't look certain. She looked on edge, bracing for some kind of spewing vitriol. I didn't have the temperament at the moment to reassure her – it actually hurt a little for her to think that I would be cruel to her – and I was certain that I just wanted to get out of the sharp disinfectant smell and the hordes of moaning, keening, sad, scared people.

"Yes. Okay." I hitched a shoulder. "Can we go now?" At that, she jumped to her feet and tried to push the chair. It jerked and I grabbed at the side. "There's a lock," I gritted out, past the now-familiar thump of pain, to my flustered friend. Friend. That was the right term. Holly flipped the lock and pushed me out of the hospital.

I took in as much air as I could when we were out. Who knew I could miss fresh air that much? I wasn't a woodsy, outdoorsy kind of girl but there was a difference between choosing to stay inside and game and being _forced_ to stay inside due to an injury. And now all I wanted to do was pause, take a moment to look.

The night was crisp and dark and so much bigger than my room. I rolled my head back on my neck, eyes searching the sky above, and I think Holly might have caught onto the fact that the inky black above was soothing me, making me relax into it, and pushed the chair a little slower because it took an incredible length of time to reach her car. I didn't complain. Why would I when the night was so much more – more widespread, more soft, more purple and black and blue and more careful of the glittering lights it held more dashes of silver fire than five points glow-in-the-dark stickers – than I had remembered it was, my memory of it washed false bright with fluorescent lights and white walls.

"You alright?" Holly asked quietly when I sat by the car. She tucked my bag into the trunk and moved around to my side to open the door. "Do you want to get in now?" she asked, quiet again. Perhaps she didn't want to disturb the peace. My peace. It wasn't really peaceful. I knew there was smog filtering my sight line to the stars and I could hear the honking and bad-temper of traffic jams and the car park tasted of petrol. It felt right though.

I turned to her and nodded, ready to leave. She helped me stand – I hid the fact that my drugs had well and truly worn off by now by ducking my head and slipping quick into the passenger seat – and she folded the wheelchair, putting that in the trunk as well.

Then it was just the two of us in a small box of a car and any peace I had felt was tumbled away with nerves. Holly didn't help. Presumably she felt her own nerves because she rambled like the beautiful, beautiful madwoman she was.

"Do we need to pick up any medication on the way to mine? Or maybe some food? Something to drink? Do you have any preferences? I like to drink ginger ale when I'm sick – my grandmother started that when I was young and I guess I never really grew out of it," she told me, hands lifting slightly off the steering wheel as she drove to punctuate her sentences.

I pulled the script I had been issued out of my pocket. Painkillers and antibiotics. "I also need to get my things from the apartment," I said quietly. She nodded along and somewhere between one nod and the next I fell asleep.

* * *

I woke to two pill bottles rattling in the centre console next to me and Holly muttering very quietly to herself, swearing at the people who decided it was a good idea to park haphazardly.

"I can arrest them for you," I mumbled. Holly jumped in her seat and grabbed at her heart.

"Jesus, Gail." I smiled apologetically when she had to take a few moments to calm her breathing. "I didn't know you were awake."

"Only for a second." I peeked through the window. "Yours?" I asked. "What about my stuff?"

"Oh, um, you were out of it when I got there so I went in and Dov gave me all your stuff. So if it's not packed nicely it's his fault and not mine, okay?" I shrugged. I really wasn't so particular with clothing. "He was going to work so if you need anything that isn't there, he said we should go back tomorrow. And I'm not sure where Chris was."

"Rehab," I grunted. Forgetting – _stupid _Gail – that I probably shouldn't mention that to anyone.

"Oh." Her super-computer mind probably filed that away somewhere for future reference and then, "Do you need help?" she asked, already leaning over to undo my seatbelt. I allowed it but drew the line at her opening my door by doing it myself, stepping out.

I probably should have said something. By the time I got to her front door, my leg and hip were aching, pounding, almost blinding me with the pain and it was all I could do to close my eyes against it.

"Gail?" I heard Holly ask softly. I felt her hand touch my shoulder but had to concentrate everything on tamping down the pain because jesus fucking Christ who knew a burning piece of metal throwing itself through your body would hurt that bad? "Gail," she said again, sounding stern and a little bit scared. I felt a little smooth thing being forced into my hand and heard a sloshing. "Put that in your mouth. Drink," she demanded and I took the pill and a sip. Then we waited, my back against the door and Holly hovering somewhere nearby – I hadn't gained control enough to check but I could feel her eyes appraising me so I knew she was near – until the pounding dully and I forced my uninjured leg to straighten and carry my weight.

"Better?" she asked. I nodded a yes. I braced, preparing myself to be yelled at for not telling her, for not saying anything, for being stupid, but instead she went the other way and started apologising all over again. Which really threw me for a loop so I didn't catch up and correct her for a little while. "God, Gail, I'm sorry. I should have realised. I was late and you wouldn't have been given anything for a while. I should have calculated that and realised you needed another one. I should have known," she said.

"Whoa. Calm down," I insisted. "It's okay."

"It's not. I was late and this is my fault." She bit her lip. "Maybe you should stay with Steve? He'll not let you forget a pill. Or Dov?"

"Nope. You are a _doctor_, Holly. You gave me a pill and water. Steve would probably let me wash down a couple with a shot of tequila," I exaggerated. "Dov would tell me to try herbal tea first because his parents were freaking hippies. And he doesn't really do well with painkillers." I grinned at that, remembering loopy Dov. He was stupid. Then again, loopy Dov _had_ been a contributing factor in Chris leaving me so perhaps I shouldn't remember it with the degree of fondness that I did. Eh. I pushed on. "And if I were staying with my mother, she would confiscate them and tell me I didn't need them. Probably that I was weak. Definitely that I should push on and find some way to turn it to my advantage."

"Really?"

"Eh probably. Let's hope that I don't have to find out. Are you kicking me out of your house or have you calmed down and accepted that I was stupid and you are by far the best candidate to look after me?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she laughed. "One hundred per cent."

"Oh good." I held up the second bottle of pills. "Because I can't remember if I should take the antibiotics as well."

She heaved an amused sigh and shook her head. "No. You only have to take them once a day." Picking up my two bags, she unlocked her front door and carried them into her home. "And they gave you one at the hospital this morning so you don't need to take one until tomorrow."

"See?" I congratulated her. "You know this stuff, Doctor Holly. I'll be just fine with you."

"Maybe _Doctor Holly_ knows this stuff because the pharmacist told her because someone needed to know the instructions and _someone _was fast asleep in the car," she retorted pointedly, all raised brows and sneaky smirks.

"Maybe," I muttered.

I hobbled into her house, leaning heavily against walls and the backs of chairs and couches when she couldn't see me and moving relatively easily when she was looking.

"Okay," she said, coming back into her living room. "I've put you in the guest room because that way you won't have to tackle the stairs."

"I could take them."

"Sure you could. There's a bathroom just down the hall but you shouldn't shower tonight. Maybe tomorrow if there isn't any abnormal redness or swelling. I'll change the dressings afterwards so don't worry about getting them wet when you do shower. I mean, don't get them _soaked_," she clarified, "but a little water won't hurt you."

"Good to know."

And just like that it changed from good-natured to awkward, neither of us quite knowing what to do next. Holly looked around for something else to tell me – where things were perhaps – but I had been in her home before and there wasn't much to tell. It didn't look like anything much had changed. Except, perhaps, the person she kept in her bed. I scolded myself for that thought and, in penitence, rescued us from this awkward moment.

"Look, Hol, I'm actually a really good sick person. I'm quiet and surprisingly low maintenance. I'm, if it's okay I mean, I'm just going to go take a nap. And you can go do nerdy stuff like paperwork. Fix up that interns crap, try and get him kicked out of his program because obviously he doesn't belong there. Okay?" Holly laughed at that – I was super deadly serious. That kid deserved a kick in the ass. But she shooed me away and looked a lot less uncomfortable in her own home so my job there was done.

I made my way to the guest bedroom and dropped my bags into the wardrobe. I didn't bother unpacking. Who knew when Holly would want me to leave? No point unpacking. I could just pull clean clothes out whenever I needed them.

The guest bed was comfortable and inviting – Holly's bed was better, my mind supplied, and I viciously quashed that thought – and I fell easily once more into a deep sleep.

* * *

Only to be woken by muted screams that, as I threw myself further and further into reality, became whimpers and then just heavy pants. I ran my hands over myself and everything around me – short hair, that was new, newer than Perrick, I'm in my pyjamas, it's not a dress, no blood, I'm clean, feel this mattress definitely not strapped to a table, look nice sheets that's not the trunk of a taxi cab – until I could breathe without fear of conjuring some demon from the dark corners of the room, from the dark corners of my mind.

The door inched open and dusky light filtered in through the crack. Holly stepped in, with a bowl of soup my nose told me, and she smiled when she saw I was awake. I didn't dare think about how bad I looked but it must have been terrible ashen or sweaty or just round-eyed with fear because she took two hurried steps to put down the soup on the bedside table and she crouched by the bed.

"Hey," she said, a hand dropping to the mattress near my hand, "you okay?"

"Yes," I whispered. "I just forgot where I was." Part of the truth. Not all of it. I owed her all the truth – I had come to that conclusion when I realised we were well and truly over – but couldn't bring myself to tell her. I hadn't told her about Perrick or Jerry before. When we were a thing, I mean. When she was supposed to listen to me, hear me out, reassure me or whatever it was you were supposed to do with someone you were dating. So, now that we weren't anything, I couldn't bring myself to mention it.

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked.

"Look at that," I drawled. "You should be a detective."

She humoured me with a grin. "I am a detective. Badge and everything." At my look, she continued. "From the bottom of the cereal box. But it _is_ a badge."

"Impressive," I teased.

"Deflecting," she teased right back. I lowered my eyes to my lap. Damn. She caught me. "Gail?" I looked back up to her slowly and there she was, ready with a smile. "I'm going to get my dinner and come back in here so we can eat together. Is that okay?" I nodded. "And I'll turn on the light and we can talk if you want." I shrugged. "Okay. I'll be right back."

And she was. With her own steaming soup and a little fold-out tray that she used to put both of our bowls and even napkins and spoons.

"Cute," I said, trailing my spoon through my dinner.

"Tastes good too," she said, watching me until I rolled my eyes and slurped at the soup. After a few spoonfuls, she went back to her own dinner. "So," she said.

"So," I said right back.

"What was your nightmare about?" I stared at her and within two seconds she stared backtracking, probably thinking that the question was unforgivably rude. From anyone else, it might well have been. "I mean, do you want to talk about it? And I'm here if you do."

"Thank you."

I managed to eat most of the soup but I was too full by the time I reached the last inch or so that remained in the bottom of the bowl so I played with my food happily, tapping the surface of the soup with my spoon and watching it splash…until I looked up to see Holly's simultaneously amused and disapprovingly expression.

"I'm going to take this away before you can spill it everywhere, okay?" I surrendered my bowl to her better judgement and spent a few precious minutes considering whether I should just go to sleep or make a toilet run first. Toilet won out.

When I returned, Holly had flopped onto the bed and was staring up at the ceiling. I shuffled over and she turned with a lazy smile. "Hey. You should've let me help you."

"I can pee by myself thank you." I lowered myself slowly to the bed, managing to not wince at all when I made contact.

"Pill," Holly reminded me.

I took the pain killer and rolled the pill over between my fingers. "Later." She glared at me. "I promise I'll take it. Just…it makes me feel wonky and you wanted to hear about my nightmares so I don't want to be wonky for that."

"Oh. Okay then."

I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest. Where to start? I didn't want to jump feet first into the nightmares. I wanted to tiptoe in, to explain why I woke up in a cold sweat and a scream at my lips. But I wanted to ease around it so I didn't actually have to talk about it at all and that might not be healthy but it was the way I did things. So.

"Did you know that Traci was dating someone? Actually, they were engaged." Holly frowned. "Oh, this was before Steve. Obviously."

"I saw him around," Holly agreed. "Detective Barber."

"Yeah." I was silent for a bit. "Jerry. His name was Jerry." I played with the corner of the pillow, twisting the excess fabric of the pillow case around my finger. "He died and Traci and Andy are best friends but Andy went away undercover and so she needed someone to talk to and I was there and that's why we're friends."

"That doesn't explain the nightmares," Holly prompted. And then, maybe thinking I didn't want to go into it, she changed her tone back to light and teasing. "Or are you scared of going soft?"

I scoffed at that. "Please, I'm Gail Peck. I'll never go soft." The smile that broke across her face was bright and I cherished it because it disappeared a minute later. "Jerry died because of me," I said very softly, an admission breathed out into the air. But Holly caught it.

"What? No, he was stabbed. By a guy. Podrick…Purtick…"

"Perrick." I tried not to flinch at the name. I couldn't meet her eyes. I couldn't.

Realisation dawned. She raised herself up onto her elbows and watched me carefully. "That was you? The girl he kidnapped? That was _you_?" I nodded. "They found her in the trunk of his taxi." I nodded again. "That was you?" she asked once more, so so quietly. I wanted to be exasperated but she looked horrified so I nodded once more. "Do you…is that what you dream about? Or is it about Detec- about Jerry?"

I thought about the images that made up the nightmares. They didn't always make sense so I shrugged. "Both. Sometimes. Sometimes," I said, hesitant, but when I saw her open and listening face I continued, feeling a tiny bit relieved by the knowing she was completely okay with this, with talking to me and listening to me, "sometimes it's just dark. And I can't do anything I was trained to do. I can't knock out the back light because my hands are tied and I can't yell because my mouth is taped shut."

"Is that true?" she asked. "Is that real? A memory?"

"Yeah. It's like I'm reliving it. But I know it's a dream because in the dark I can see his face. And sometimes it's not dark at all but it's red and wet like blood. And sometimes I can't see anything and it's just the sound of his shoes clicking around the room." She looked white now and I bit my lip. "I can stop."

"No. Keep going. If you want to, I mean."

"Are you sure?" She nodded and I still felt uneasy from the dream and I wanted her here beside me, I didn't want her to go, and if she was listening then she wouldn't leave. It was selfish but when everything was dark and I felt so intensely, fiercely scared, I didn't want to be alone. "Sometimes I dream about Jerry. And he's yelling, screaming at me to run but I'm so useless. I can't. I can't do it. And I can't fight back and I can't save him. I couldn't do anything. He died because of me."

"He died because some madman captured you. He was doing his job. And because he cared about you."

I didn't say anything for a little while. I knew it was true, sort of. It was still hard to join the dots – an alive Jerry and then a grave, seeing him lying there… "Can you turn out the lights?" I asked in a small voice.

"Yeah. Do you want me to go?"

_No_, I wanted to say. Loudly. Firmly. I don't want you to go. I want you to wrap me up in a hug because I'm feeling fractured and like I'm too big for my skin and I need something to hold me in hold me tight. I want you warm next to me so that the next time I wake up with demons taunting me, and they come tonight, I can know that you'll be right there.

But I forced a shrug and an easy smile. "I'm going to take my pill and go to sleep," I said. A non-answer to her question. It was totally up to her. She lingered for a minute, watching me take the pill, and then she forced herself up and out of the bed.

"Okay. I should go."

"Okay."

"Sleep well, Gail. If you have nightmares, text me. Or call me. And I'll come down. Okay?"

_Never_, my mind supplied. "Sure," my mouth said.

And sure enough, when the nightmares came back I stared at my phone sitting all pretty and inviting only two feet away. I ignored it and turned my head away and closed my eyes, trying to imagine anything other than my friends caked in blood and a floating madman circling around them.

I didn't look pretty in the morning. I shuffled out and Holly winced.

"Rough night?" I grunted a yes to that. "I thought I told you to text me," she prompted, flipping sizzling bacon over on the stove.

"I didn't really wake up," I said. And that was mostly honest. I had remained in that dazed, fearful state for the majority of the night and I doubt even if I had tried to message her I would have been able to think of the right words. "I think the drugs make it worse," was my next admission. "Need help?"

"No. Sit your butt down in that chair. It's comfortable and you still need to rest."

"Resting is all I've been doing for a week," I tried to complain. She was having none of it.

"And you'll do it for a few weeks more until you are completely healed. _Sit_. I'm making breakfast."

I felt bad that she was cooking for me. So I told her that. "But I feel bad," I whined. "Let me make something. You don't have to make me anything special. Toast. Toast is good."

"You were shot and you have to eat properly so you can get better now like I said, sit your butt down on that couch and wait for a minute." Her tone was surprisingly stern but it wasn't lacking in good humour. She just didn't want to be trifled with. I sat.

"No tomatoes," I called over to her.

"I know. You're allergic." Warmth suffused me with that comment – she remembered. That was nice. "And you don't like eggs. I remember. And hey," she called over to me, "if it makes you feel better you can buy dinner tonight."

I thought about that as she divvied up the bacon and toast and yoghurt cereal thing. When she walked over with a plate for me, I asked "Chinese? I was craving dim sums and mu shu pork when I was in the hospital. The best they had was an ambiguous looking meat thing."

"Sounds good to me babe," she replied, placing my plate within reach and returning to the kitchen for her own. I caught the 'babe' first and blinked after her. When she realised what she had said, she froze and looked from her plate to me. I kept my eyes on my cereal and from the corner of my eye I could see her shrug and then shake her head with an expression that I couldn't quite decipher. I hoped it was toward the regretful or sad end of the scale but I really couldn't tell. A few moments later, she dropped onto the couch beside me. "So there's this cool documentary showing at the moment. It's about-"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"I didn't even tell you what it's about!"

"I got _shot_, Holly. I'm not going to waste my recovery time actually doing things like learning. Pick something else."

"It's about a whale that killed his trainer and"

"Barf." That actually didn't sound so bad but I wasn't in the mood for something about death.

"Only so many times you can use the 'I got shot' card, Gail," she grumbled. "Jeopardy?"

"No."

"Lost?"

"No."

"Morning News?"

"_No._"

"Oh look, they are showing Power Rangers for people as childish as you are," Holly teased.

I smiled sweetly. "Perfect."

"Really, Gail?" she sighed. I noted even as she did she was already changing the channel. We watched those colourful superheros kick villain butt for half an hour before the first visitor turned up.

* * *

I was getting fed up for Holly. This was ridiculous. I had never been this popular before and Holly's house was starting to feel like a brothel with all these people coming and going. I understood that they were trying to be nice, taking time to make sure that yes I was still alive, and I appreciated especially those people who knew me well enough to come with baked goods to calm my ire. But it was still too many people and too many random appearances for Holly to be comfortable. On the morning of my fifth day at Holly's, when Andy called to let me know she was going to visit, I snapped at her.

"_Hell no_," I growled into the phone. "Bugger off. And tell everyone else to stay away because this is Holly's house and you guys can't just get the address off her personnel file and show up whenever you feel like it!"

"Gail-"

"And I still don't like you," I said childishly before hanging up.

Holly didn't mention it but she definitely noticed the lack of visitors. She came out of her office to sit with me, peeking around to see if I had a guest, and there was a sense of relief that followed her. She was seriously too nice for her own good.

So, when Nick texted me a day later, I felt bad about asking Holly if he could come over. I didn't want to disrupt the peace we had built – carefully meshing our lives just enough so that I didn't die and not quite enough to annoy each other – but I did need to see him.

"Holly?" I called out. I heard the roll of her desk chair and she skipped down the stairs. I had to catch my breath and reorganise my thoughts when I saw her – she was in sexy librarian mode, complete with messy hair and glasses, and it made me totally hot for her. "Uh," I stalled for a moment, trying to track down my thoughts. "Is it okay if Nick comes over later?"

"Yes of course." She frowned. "But you don't have to ask. He could just get my address from the work file."

"You mean like everyone else did, showing up whenever they felt like it?" She nodded. "Yeah I told them not to do that." Her eyes widened and I rushed to cover my tracks. "Obviously because I want to sleep a lot. Hello, I'm injured here and they were so annoying always coming during nap time. It wasn't for any other reason like, eh, I don't know, respecting the boundaries of your home. That would be weird."

"Right," she drawled. "Of course." I ignored the way she was staring at me and I texted Nick the address.

"He'll be here around eleven. Is that okay?"

"Sure."

"Okay."

"Okay then."

Awkward moments like that were becoming more and more frequent – like we both wanted to keep talking to one another but we didn't want to annoy the other. Well, I wanted to keep talking but I was sure that she was just humouring me. So I turned and scurried back to the guest room and tried for exactly two minutes to straighten out the room and make it neat before stopping because it was just Nick and I didn't give a crap if my bed was messy or if I looked like shit. His opinion didn't really matter.

Two hours later, Holly let him in. I didn't want him to come anymore. My side was hurting and I wasn't allowed another pill for an hour still so she had sent my cranky ass to bed to rest. Nick came in with a huge box of chocolate and I changed my mind. He could stay.

"Hey," he said.

I looked up from the chocolate, immediately worried. He sounded sad. Upset. Worried. "Okay, what is it?" I asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. Tell me."

He tried valiantly but he didn't last long under my Peck perfected stare. He caved. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly. "It's my fault."

It took me a few moments to realise what he was talking about and, when I did, I lowered the box to my side and I frowned heavily at my friend. "Nick, it's not your fault I got shot."

"It was," he insisted. "I should have"

"Should have what? Nick – we weren't expecting him to have a gun. We weren't even expecting _him. _It was just a noise complaint, remember?" He lowered his head and I saw that his forehead was still all crinkled with a frown and I sighed. There was only so much that I could do and so I said sternly, "Don't you dare make this about you. I'm the one who got shot. You have to be nice to me, not make this about you and being upset because you can't foresee the future." That was the way I reassured him. It always had been. Being my normal, selfish, Gail Peck self. But when I sent him out of the room to make me some tea – and I added a few complicated instructions so that he would take longer – I grabbed my phone and dialled a familiar number.

"Andy McNally," she answered cheerfully.

"McNally, I need you to do something."

"Oh really?" she laughed into the phone. "Because I remember wanting to make sure that _someone_ was okay but that same _someone_ told me to bugger off."

"It's because I don't like you," I reminded her cheekily, smiling despite myself because being mean to Andy was always fun, and she laughed. "I need you to talk to Nick. Not right now, he's with me, but later."

"What?" She sounded clueless. "About what?"

"About me getting shot. He was with me and now he's wigging out. Saying it was his fault and he should've done better or something."

Andy hummed thoughtfully on her end of the line. "Shit."

"Yeah. So, I don't know, you were there when Chloe got shot and you haven't had a breakdown yet so I thought maybe you could talk to him and make him see that he did everything right."

"Well he did. He got you out of danger, applied pressure, called for backup and the EMT and-"

"Okay, McNally, I don't need you to practise your little speech on me. I'm hanging up now." She sighed heavily and I grinned. "Still hate you," I said sweetly.

I could practically see her face cave into a smile. "Love you too, Gail," she said equally sweetly. I grimaced and shuddered.

"Gross. Bye."

Nick came back into my room as I was putting my phone away. "Who was that?" he asked.

"McNally." I didn't want to talk about that, so I changed the subject. "The tea looks cold," I said.

"Yeah, you told me to add ice to it." He froze in place, almost to my bed, and looked down at it unsure. "Do you want me to make it again?" I thought seriously about it for a moment, seriously enjoying the thought of tormenting him like that, but remembering how genuinely upset he was that I got shot I relented.

"Nah. Chocolate?"

"Do you still hate the mint ones?" I nodded. "I'll have a mint one, please?" I waved at the box generously and he searched for the disgusting little chocolates. "And do you still like playing cards?" he asked, pulling a box from his coat.

"Why do you say it like that? Do I still like cards? It's not like I've changed completely since we dated."

"Hey, give me a break. I'm just reminding myself. Cards – yes or no?"

"Yes," I admitted. "And I'm going to kick your ass like I always have."

"We'll see about that."

I did. I thrashed him so thoroughly he didn't have the brain cells required to cry about his loss _and_ think about my getting shot. And I crowed about it. That bit, admittedly, wasn't to distract him. That was just because I was a sore winner and taunting my defeated opposition was a highlight of the game.

"I handed your ass to you," I said matter-of-factly. "On a platter. A platter made of silver. I handed your ass to you on a silver platter."

"Oh ha ha," he grumbled. "You know that go fish is a game of luck, right? It doesn't take any skill."

"Luck schmuck you asshole. I beat you seven times. In a _row_."

He tossed the cards down between us and rolled his eyes so hard I thought he might strain them and I tried to keep from laughing, and failed, trying not to hurt my side, and when Holly peeked around the doorway I really did try to stop laughing because I didn't want to be too loud, too annoying, in her house. I smiled though – I didn't want her to think that her mere presence was enough to stop laughter dead in its tracks. She padded into the room in her fluffy socks and her messy hair-glasses on look still intact.

"Hey guys," she says. "I don't want to interrupt but…lunch? Do you want me to make you something, Nick?"

"No, no, I'll be fine. Thank you though." He glanced down at his watch. "And I have to go. I have a shift this afternoon." He patted my foot and scooped up all the discarded cards. "Don't eat those all at once," Nick said with a nod to the chocolate.

I held it to my chest. "Don't tell me what to do."

We hesitated. Holly was lingering just outside our two-person group but I could feel her watching and he could as well, I think, because he left with just a nod to me and I knew that in another scenario, a more private one, he would want to hug me. To reassure himself that I was still alive, still breathing flesh-and-blood, despite the scare we had had. I stared thoughtfully after him and fiddled with an empty wrapper. I hoped that he would be okay. I knew it was terrifying to see someone shot, let alone someone you know and are friends with. Maybe I should talk to him about going to the shrink. I hoped that Andy would be able to help. And I—

"Gail?" Holly said quietly. I blinked and looked over to her. "You didn't hear me, did you?" She smiled gently to take any force out of the accusation.

I pulled a face. "No. Sorry. What were you saying?"

"Do you want to have lunch now? You need to eat with the painkillers you're taking so…sandwiches?" My stomach growled and she nodded. "That's an answer, of a sort I suppose. I'll be right back." She reached over first, before she left, and snagged the box of chocolate. At my protest, she glared a little and scolded me. "You can have them back after you've eaten some proper food. Now wait here."

"Yes because I'm going to traipse while I've got a bunch of holes in my side," I snarked. "Good thinking, Holly! I should try that."

She ignored me. Like me, she was probably remembering the incident with the donuts. I would totally traipse around for junk food, holes in my side or not. We both knew that.

She returned with the tray from the other night and set up our little lunch table. Sandwiches with thick bread and ham and lettuce, water, paper napkins. They were delicious.

Holly was strangely quiet throughout lunch until about halfway through, when she suddenly said, "He seems nice." I shrugged.

"He's okay, I guess."

She nodded. A few bites later, she spoke up again. "He's your type then?" She sounded like she was teasing but there was a teeny, tiny little line between her eyebrows and it made me think that she was a touch more serious than she was letting on. "All rugged and handsome?"

I thought about it for a moment because I had never truly considered what my 'type' was. There had been a very specific reason that I had dated Nick. And I had dated Chris because he was sweet and it made the others a little more lenient towards me – not that it had been the main reason we were dating, it was just a pleasant side bonus. I didn't really do relationships though. I'd always thought it was because I was too cold for that, that I didn't feel things right, but it could just have been that I wasn't with the right person.

But how could I say that to Holly without it being weird? I couldn't think of a way to say it, so I said something different. "I was going to marry him," I said. Which probably hadn't been the right choice of topics. I made my tone as casual, blithe really, as I could. "We didn't fit though. We were two young idiots looking for something."

"What were you looking for?"

"A place to be ourselves. I had my family and I didn't fit, I was the failure daughter, I was the disappointment so I was looking for somewhere else. And Nick," my mouth twisted sadly, "he lost his parents when he was twelve and he never really felt like he had a place after he left the group home. We thought about making a home together." I shrugged. "I loved him and I thought he loved me too. But it didn't work out."

"What happened?" she asked, sandwich forgotten.

I fiddled with my napkin. "He left me at the altar."

"What? _Really_?" I nodded. "Wow. How was that?" she asked. She cursed herself with the next breath because she knew what was coming. She basically asked for it. A tidal wave of sarcasm. Unstoppable. Unrelenting. The kind of thing that just had to be waited out.

"Oh it was great," I started, sarcasm liberally painted over my voice. "Really fun. Swell. I thoroughly enjoyed being left at the altar. Humiliation is just, mm, somehow the best feeling in the world. And him leaving without saying a word was really the perfect scenario, exactly the way I wanted our relationship to end. The whole thing really gave me a sense of joy and accomplishment and satisfaction—how do you_ think_ it was?" I retorted. "It was crappy, Holly. Very, very crappy."

She winced. "Sorry."

All the fight left me immediately. "Eh, it's okay. I don't love him anymore and it wouldn't have worked out anyway."

"Oh?" Holly asked.

"Yeah. Turns out I'm a lesbian," I said with a shrug of my shoulders. "And he's a guy so…probably wouldn't have worked."

* * *

It wasn't all interesting and in depth talks between me and Holly, though. I just didn't care to remember the times that I woke up drenched in sweat and wanting to reach out and text Holly, call out and beg her to come and sit with me because my side was on fucking fire and it hurt and I couldn't breath as the muscles spasmed around the healing tissue.

And there were evening battles over which take-away place to try, times when I hid away in the guest bedroom after PT sessions that took away the strength from my legs and made me cry for literally an hour, times when I shuffled into Holly's office and sat with her quietly as I tried to read one of her very intelligent journals that she had written. There were times when I didn't sleep and time when sleeping was all I seemed to be able to do. But those talks with Holly? Where she started to see the me I had always needed to hide away? Those talks were the most important moments for me and I remembered them in perfect clarity because it was her and it was me and it was us even if there wasn't an us.

Two weeks had gone by and a horrible thought dawned on me. I was in pain but finally, completely clear-headed without the painkiller in my system and I swore softly to myself. I knew I had forgotten something. Something big.

"Holly?" I called out into the apartment, not knowing where she was. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to take your pill," she said instantly. She was, apparently, behind me. Holly leant over to hand me said pill and a glass of water. I put them aside.

"In a minute. What time is it?"

She frowned at me, disapproving. "You're in pain, Gail." When I kept my stubborn face on, she sighed. "Almost eight." She looked. "Five to eight. _Now_ will you take your pill?"

"No, it makes me groggy and weird and I need to call someone. I'll take it after." Eight o'clock on Tuesdays. They were my days. And I had forgotten. I felt like the worst person in the world.

"Promise?" Holly was saying and I nodded.

"Yes, I promise. Can you get me my phone, please?" I widened my eyes pleadingly and she huffed but relaxed from her crossed arms, resolute pose to grab it from the table. I dialled the number with a nervous glance to the clock and hoped that I could fix this.

"Hello?"

"Hey," I said softly. "It's Gail."

"Gail. You…I don't know that I should even let you talk to her. You missed two calls with _no_ explanation, no visit, no follow up. She was crushed. You give me one good reason for that right now or-"

"I got shot," I said bluntly. I liked Sophie's grandmother and I knew she had good reason to be pushy and stern with me but the pain was putting me on edge. "I was in hospital. And last week I was so high on drugs I could barely remember my name let alone what day it was."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So I didn't want to miss today. Oh and…before I talk to her, if you let me, I was thinking if she wanted to she could come over to see me some time? I'm staying at a friends place right now but I think it would be better if she could see for herself that I'm okay."

"Yes. Yes of course. I'll set something up." She breathed out heavily. "How horrible. First her mother and now you."

"I'm not going anywhere," I said. I didn't want to be likened to Sophie's mom. It was scary. I knew…it had been close. But I wasn't gone, I was still right here, and I refused to think about how close it had been.

"Yes but"

"Lucile. I'm not leaving her. I promise."

"Good. Good," she said again, more firmly. "Well, here's Sophie then. It's Gail, dear," I heard her say to my little friend and then the crackle erupted over the line that meant the phone was moving, passing hands, and I imagined it pressed up against a pudgy round cheek and remembered the eyes and the little hand that had held mine as we had waited and waited for her grandmother and I could feel Holly's eyes on me but then Sophie was talking and I felt all my defences melt away and my voice was unrecognisably affectionate.

"Hi sweetie," I said. "How are you?"

"Good I guess. Grammy says we have five minutes."

"Okay." I leant into the phone and smiled. "I'm sorry for missing our calls."

"That's okay." I could sense her shrug.

I frowned at the thought that she was getting used to people leaving her. "No, it isn't. And I wouldn't have, I promise you, but I was in the hospital."

"Are you okay?" she asked in a slow voice. And I'd spent enough time around her to know that she was afraid. And brave, so brave, but afraid.

"I got hurt pretty bad but I'll be just fine, sweetie." How could she not be afraid? We had both seen what had happened to her mother. _Sophie_, that voice burnt into my memory. And grabbing hands. And blood. "I promise," I said again. "And I'll try and see you soon and we can spend all day together if you want."

"Just me and you?"

"Well I'll have to ask but if that's what you want then I'm sure we can figure it out."

She was silent for a bit, I don't know how long but I listened to her breathing and finally she sniffled. "I miss you," she confessed in a little whisper. I closed my eyes against what definitely were _not_ tears. Then I cleared my throat.

"I miss you too, sweetie."

"I have to go," she said after another long moment of silence. "Love you," was her shy goodbye. That was the first time she had said that – did I even deserve it? I had forgotten about her and that was inexcusable, unforgivable, but she had given that to me, given me those words and I would be a beast if I didn't say them back.

So I did. I forced out a quiet "Love you" in response and when she hung up, I held my phone carefully, wonderingly, just staring at it. Looking up, I saw that Holly was sitting on the couch and wasn't even pretending to read her book. Instead, she was watching me as carefully as I had the phone. She was examining me. I fought with panic. What was she thinking? From what she heard, what conclusions had she reached? Maybe it sounded like I had a girlfriend. That would be bad if she thought that. It would make it seem like I burbled out affections while stoned but once I came back down there was another girl waiting for me who wasn't Holly and I didn't want her to think that at all, ever, and of course it would be simple to tell her right but I still didn't know what she was thinking and I was finding it hard to think at all, to breathe, to put together my thoughts well enough to understand me, let alone attempt to understand what Holly was thinking.

She didn't look jealous or annoyed or angry. She just asked me "are you okay?" and when I shook my head no she closed her book and came a little closer. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I…" Did I trust Holly enough for this story? It wasn't a secret keeper kind of trust, not hushed or private. It was a kind of trust that was on a different level and if I didn't hate the word I would describe it as intimate. If I told her, would she understand? Would she understand me, understand the way I felt about it? I needed to trust that Sophie would be as special, as much of a blessing to her as she was to me, or at least for Holly to understand why I felt the way I did.

"It was after we," I paused. I couldn't even get through a single sentence. I wanted to laugh at myself. Wanted to hate myself as well. "Broke up," I finished. It wasn't exactly correct. We hadn't broken up. I had thrown us away. She'd made a mistake, in my eyes, and I'd just thrown us away. But she was watching me still and I hurried on with the story.

"There was a lady and she was shot. By accident. By some incredibly stupid accident. She was," I shook my head with disbelief because it still seemed so unfair so horribly unfair and _wrong_ and it wasn't that it was worse than those poor people who were murdered who were shot on purpose, it wasn't that, it was just that it was a bad thing that happened just because it did. No explanation. No reason to it, even one fuelled by hatred or anger or jealousy, and it smacked of tragedy. More so because Sophie was so wonderful and lovely and sweet and it just wasn't fair that she lost her mother. "She was doing her laundry and some thug was upstairs killing his boss and a bullet went through the vent and hit her."

Holly's face crinkled in concern and I realised I was crying. She moved closer still and, hesitating for a moment, laid her hand on my knee. I took what warmth I could from that and kept going.

"She had a daughter. Sophie." Holly's eyes widened with recognition and then a spark. Something connected in her mind and she tilted her head to look at me with immeasurable affection and nodded her understanding. And permission.

"Keep going, Gail."

I took a breath, jostled from my thoughts. A blush threatened to sweep my cheeks when I realised I'd stopped talking and started, well, just staring at Holly. But I didn't want to keep talking. It hurt to think about and it hurt to feel all over again like a cold little hand was wrapped around my heart squeezing. I frowned down at the still soothing hand and, very very slowly so she could move away if she wanted to, I took Holly's hand in both of mine and rubbed my thumbs over the back of her hand.

"I had to tell her that her mother was dead," I said quietly. "I had to hold her while she cried and I can't…I can't forget it. Her mother grabbed me. She kept calling out Sophie, Sophie, and I thought she was fine." I looked up and, if asked later, I would say that it was the drugs that did it but I was crying heavier now and I sniffled. "I thought she was fine because she was talking and she could see me and she got to the hospital quickly but Chris told me later that she died."

"And Sophie?"

"She's staing with her grandmother," I said, wiping with my sleeve under my eyes. "Lucille."

"And you visit her?"

"Sometimes. I call her once a week though. Tuesdays, eight o'clock." She nodded. Now she understood. But I wanted to tell her more. "She's such a sweet kid, Holly. She has a smile that just, it just lights up the room and she eats her vegetables without complaining ever and she told me she loves me."

Holly nodded. "She can come over. Here. She can come here to see you. Whenever you want. You just tell me when and I'll buy you guys some snacks and rent a movie or something." Her free hand came up to touch my cheek lightly.

I tried not to move into the touch. Instead, I bit my lip, worrying it between my teeth for a few moments. "Do you…would you like to meet her?"

She blinked. "Would that be okay?"

I nodded. Just once. "Yes."

"Then I would love to." She turned her hand over in mind so that she was holding my hand now and she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that happened to you and you didn't have anyone to call."

"I could have called you. But I was being…" I trailed off and then made a sound that was, quite frankly, appalling. She laughed. I grinned a watery grin. "Sometimes I need time to figure things out and I was trying to figure you out and me and what I was thinking and feeling and then Sophie happened. And I'm _glad_ Sophie happened. Well, I'm not at all glad her mother was shot," I clarified, "but I'm so thankful to have met her because she's lovely. And then Chris happened and then," I scrunched my nose and frowned and shrugged.

"It was all too much?" she guessed.

"Right." I thought how to explain it properly. "Do you remember that stupid cat analogy I told you when we first met?" Holly nodded. A smile tugged at her lips and I answered it with one of my own. "So, lately it's been feeling like I jumped up into that tree except instead of me wanting to get down, it felt like all of the branches were breaking underneath me and I was climbing up the tree higher and higher and the branches kept getting smaller and smaller and they kept breaking and then I was right at the top of the tree with nowhere to go."

"And then what happened?"

I recalled that night, recalled saying 'bring it on' to the universe and telling Holly exactly what I felt, and watching her walk away and feeling that last branch crumble beneath me. Now I waited until she looked up at me, curious eyes as always, and I smiled.

"I jumped."

I don't know if she knew what that entailed. I don't know if she understood what I had hoped her role would be in that scenario. But she did say a small "Oh" and it was tremulous and cautious and I thought maybe that meant she understood enough to know that I was still falling.

"Yeah."

"Gail. I"

And then, may the universe kindly go fuck itself for doing this, there was a knock on the door and Holly was pulling away from me.

She frowned and heaved a sigh. "Just…hold on for a second." A few strides took her to the door and she looked through the peephole before throwing the door open with a worried expression. "Hey. Maria. Hey, what are you doing here?"

"You didn't reply to any of my texts," came a sweet voice. I scowled. Too sweet. I hated her. "I thought I would come check on you."

"Oh." Did Holly sound uncomfortable? I thought perhaps she did. I wiped my face again and sniffed once, making sure that I was presentable for company. "That's really nice of you but I, oh, umm, okay yeah come on in then…" she said awkwardly when this 'Maria' person stepped past Holly without invitation. Rude.

"Who's this?" she asked Holly, staring at me.

I smirked, sending her a wave that was really just a patronising little wiggle of the fingers. I think I hated her. She was pretty and dressed in bright colours and wore heels.

"Maria, this is Gail," Holly said. "Gail, Maria."

I nodded and smiled. "Mary, hi. Nice to meet you." Then I stood, ignoring the way Holly scowled that the action, and meandered over. I made sure to trail my hand along the back of the couch in a subtle show that I was comfortable here, I knew this place, I was allowed to touch things. I didn't think she'd catch the action but she was clearly smarter than she looked and she stared at my hand, then at me, with a burning glare. Perfect.

"It's Maria, actually," the woman corrected.

I shrugged. Dismissive. "Sure, okay. What are you doing here?"

"Me? What are _you_ doing here?" I wondered, given the heat in her voice, whether Holly had mentioned me. Whether she'd told this woman that her ex's name was Gail. That her ex was blonde and taller than this Maria and had a cold stare of her own. That her ex could smile with perfect insincerity.

"Oh Holly is letting me stay here for a bit. I think I'm going to go to bed," I said, directing that last part to Holly. And if the slow smile that spread over my lips was a little too slow or suggestive, well. Whoops. Holly bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. It made me feel a tiny bit more justified with my treatment of this intrusive woman if Holly wanted her gone as well. I brushed past Holly – again, _slowly_ – and winked at her. She rolled her eyes. But Maria didn't see that, she just saw my sultry wink and the sway of my hips that hurt like a bitch but was totally worth it because I think it caused the outrage in the Maria's voice. Naturally, once I turned the corner, I stopped so that I could eavesdrop on their conversation.

"What the _hell_, Holly?" she hissed. "What is she doing here?"

"I invited her." I imagined Holly folding her arms defensively.

"Why?"

"Because she's hurt and needed a place to stay for a while." She lowered her voice then and I only caught a few words – the louder, heated words Maria directed at Holly, and a few emphasised words from my Holly. Maria—I can't believe you was this—no not a game—it feels like that—no not like that—you played—it's time for you to go now. A huff, from Maria. I grinned when Holly told her to leave. Her tone turned superior, spiteful. When she breaks your heart you can't, run to me, won't be there—I won't, and a dismissive, thank you for stopping by—goodbye now—oh don't bother

"Okay Gail, you can come out now."

"Wow," I said, taking one pained step to lean in the doorway. "I thought you had better taste than _that_." There wasn't actually anything wrong with her. I just hated her on principal. Holly knew that because she shot me a look that just said play nice and I know what you're thinking. "What was she?" I asked. I didn't play nice. "A booty call?" Holly looked a little embarrassed, suddenly, and I grinned. "Was she a one night stand who got clingy?"

"Something like that."

I nodded. "So, was she the one? When you said you were seeing someone?" Holly nodded. "And since you just asked her to leave," I continued, "are you still seeing someone?"

"Not so much."

I nodded. I didn't dare let myself start to hope that I, that she would, that _we_ could be something. But daring to let myself hope or not, I was still happy that the woman was out of the picture. I thought for a moment about saying something more, about trying to make us something. She wasn't seeing anyone and there _was_ something between us I knew it but I also knew that now wasn't the right time.

"I should go to bed," I said.

"Don't forget to take your pill."

"I won't." I paused. "Holly?" She looked up. "Thank you. For looking after me and just…being awesome. I," I swallowed. Why was this so hard? Being honest and nice, I mean. It sucked. "I really appreciate it."

She smiled and that smile made it feel like all the effort to say it, to be honest and all that shit, was worth it. "You're welcome. But maybe try not to get shot again?"

"Smart," I said with a nod. "Good idea. I'll keep that in mind." I ducked my head and quietly wished her a goodnight.

"Sleep well, Gail." And I took that benediction with me to my bed and slept for once without the looming presence of nightmares.

* * *

My last night with Holly was strained. We both felt it. It might be selfish and stupid but I felt like even the thought of leaving this place and her was like willingly and purposefully scooping a hole out of my chest.

Whatever we had was coming to an end and I knew I wasn't brave enough to – you know what, screw that. I was brave enough. I didn't want to leave. So my mouth embrace this whole honesty thing I had going on and as we sat with our dinner, I blurted out, "I don't want to go."

She looked up, surprised. "What?"

"Tomorrow. To Dov's. I don't…" I shrugged. What did I have to lose by saying it? I'd already started it. And she knew how I felt. "I don't want to leave. Here. You. It's been less crappy than it could have been."

"Oh. Well," she shrugged. "You can stay for another night if you want. One more won't make a difference." Holly then pursed her lips and looked away thoughtfully. "Or…" I leant in. Or? "Or, you can go home and on Friday you can take me to see a movie."

I held my breath. She couldn't be saying what I thought she was saying. Could she? "What?"

"We don't have to. I just thought it could be fun."

"No! I mean, yes. But what? What are you saying? Because if you…Holly?" I whined. I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask, is this you asking me on a date? Or asking me to ask _you_ on a date? Is that what you are saying because if it isn't I don't think my heart will ever beat right again.

"I'm saying, Gail, do you want to go on a date? With me?"

"Oh thank fucking Christ. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. Now excuse me because I have to go and make sacrifices to a dozen heathen gods for answering my prayers." She laughed and grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving the couch.

"You prayed for me?" she teased, poking me gently in the side. Not the mostly healed but still sore side, thank god.

There were two ways to answer her and one was to laugh about it and the other was to tell her that seriously, yes, I had prayed for her, I had asked god with whom I was very unfamiliar for a second chance to take it back and not be such an ass, yes I had asked the universe to rearrange the stars and give me a way to prove that I could be better and a less crappy version of myself.

"Eh," I found myself saying. "Maybe a little. But it could also have been the deal I made with the devil so if I do anything particularly evil, don't worry. It's just because I sold my soul."

"Sounds like you covered all your bases then," Holly said.

"Anything to get you back," I said very, very quietly and Holly nudged her way to sit right up against me and she took my chin in her hand and pressed a kiss to my cheek and rested her forehead against mine.

And she murmured, "I asked for you too." She grinned. "All you needed to do was not be such an idiot."

"I'm stupid, I get it," I said but I couldn't stop the huge grin that spread across my face. "But I figured it out."

"Yes you did. And as your prize you get to take me on a date. Maybe more than one, depending on how good the first one is."

"Yay," I mock-cheered. I also pretended not to see that she stole some of my dinner from my plate. The first time. The second time, I batted her hand away and glared. "Look, I'm happy that we're dating again but that doesn't mean you get to touch my food. You _do_ have your own, Holly."

**Okay I'm not one hundred per cent sure about this chapter. It's a bit different from the others. But regardless, I hope that you enjoyed it. Please let me know. Happy reading, readers :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**How Stupid Can I Be? Chapter Five**

**I don't own Rookie Blue.**

**Please enjoy.**

One year, eleven months, twenty-seven days later:

"Gail?"

I flinched at the voice and curled up a little more. I pulled my legs up beneath me so that my feet couldn't be seen under the stall door.

"Gail, I know that you're in there."

"I'm not," I retorted.

"You are," Traci said. "One, because your purse is here on the sink, two, you may have pulled up your feet but the lock still says engaged, and three, you just answered me."

I sighed. "I see why you became detective so quickly."

"Well, it helped that I was sleeping with one of the detectives." That was a blatant lie – Jerry had nothing to do with choosing the officers for the detective rotation – but it relieved the tension enough for me to open the door to the toilet and slink out. She was leaning against the wall. Then, horror of horrors, she turned that all-knowing smile on me. "Spill, Detective Peck. What's wrong?"

"Am I being stupid?" I asked her quietly, fiddling with my sleeves.

"No more than usual. Is this about the thing you won't tell anyone about?" I nodded. "Is it about the thing that I'm pretty sure I guessed correctly two weeks ago when I caught you after you came back from doing the thing?" I nodded again. "Are you nervous about it?" I nodded a third time and she beamed at me. "I am so excited."

"Traci! Focus! I'm freaking out here!"

"Oh right. Sorry." She shook away that smile and firmed her lips into a thoughtful expression. "Well, you don't have anything to worry about."

"I don't?" I'm not sure what it was in my voice or my face but Traci was suddenly wrapped around me and hugging me and almost bouncing with excitement. "Stop it," I growled.

"This – is – awesome – I – am so – excited for – you!" she squealed as she hugged me and bounced.

"Stop it." I brushed her away and fixed my hair. I'd kept it short so that I didn't have to worry about it dangling in front of my eyes when I glared at rookies. As annoyed as I was with Traci, I had to check one last time. "So it's going to be okay?"

She squealed again and that was my cue to leave.

Damn pregnancy hormones were making her crazy. She wasn't reliable. I had to find someone else.

* * *

One year, eleven months, twenty-eight days later:

Andy was second. Well, I hadn't intended to talk to her about it at all but I was examining the ring, one hundred per cent nervous, when she stumbled into the locker room one heel on, one heel off, late for some date with swanky Swarek.

"Hey Gail," she grunted.

"Hey," I said back. I traced the ring in my hand slowly. Staring at it. She must have heard something in my voice because she looked at me and my ring more closely.

"Oh my god. That's a ring. That's a _ring_," she said.

"Good work, Detective." My sarcasm was lost in the face of her excitement.

"Are you _proposing_?" she half-whispered, half-screamed. "Oh my god!"

"Shut up."

"You're proposing that's so sweet! You are you doing it?"

"Please, be quiet." But she was on a roll. There was no stopping her. "Are there going to be fireworks? Ooh, is it written in the sky? Ooh – no – a hot air balloon? No, I bet you're classy all take her to a nice cabin and cook for her and have a perfect weekend away and then pop the question with champagne and cheese." She nodded. Then froze. "No. Wait. Oh my god – are you taking her to her favourite hockey game? She would love that. Amazing, Gail." She nodded like I had said yes, that was what I was doing, and I sighed.

It _was_ a really good idea. Fuck. Now I had to buy tickets for the game. On the plus side, I would get thank you sex for them and she would be excited all night long for the game and I would get to eat as much crappy sideline junk food as I wanted. Plus, Holly would be happy. This was sounding like more and more of a good idea.

"-so thrilled for you. It's such a big step and with Holly, wow, you guys are going to be so happy together and I am-"

"Save it, McNally." I tucked the ring into it's box and into my locker. "I'm not doing it just yet." We did have a date tonight and I _had_ been considering it but, with McNally's new suggestion in play, that sounded even better. And now I got to enjoy the date without worrying about sweating nervously through my dress or barely even tasting the meal, thinking about the ring and the words and Holly's reaction. Just the date. Just Holly. That's all I had to think about.

* * *

One year, eleven months, twenty-nine days later:

"Gail, what on earth are you doing?" I turned around at my mother's sharp words and froze. "You look terrible. Have you been sleeping?"

"Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that. And no, I haven't."

She tucked the file she was holding under her elbow and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I…" I wavered between shrugging and making a terrified sound in the back of my throat. Then I did both. "I don't know. God." My right hand rubbed over my face. "I don't know. What do I do?"

"Gail, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"_Holly_," I said. Not exactly enlightening, but my mother made that thinking face she does whenever she is trying to piece together the dots she's been given and then, strangely, she smiled. The apocalypse must be nigh.

"You're proposing," she deduced. "And you're worried."

"Yes." I wanted to say 'duh' and 'finally' and 'way to state the obvious' but that would be rude.

"Your father looked much the same way you did when he tried to propose to me," she said. "He was panicked and red and trying to get the words out and failing. I do believe that he thought he was just nervous but, as it turns out, that night we discovered that he is quite allergic to hazelnuts." I laughed out aloud and she looked pleased. "I still said yes, despite us ending up in the hospital to look after him."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Do not be worried," she ordered me. "You are a Peck. She would be a fool to say no." My mother glanced down at the files she had brought before shaking her head. "This can wait. Take some time to do this," she said with a wave of her hand toward me and the hand that clutched tight to my boxed ring. "And let me know how it turns out. If she says no, I can destroy her career for you." I barked a laugh at that and her small smile grew a size.

"Thank you, Mom." That was probably the nicest thing she'd ever said to me.

"She will be a very fine addition to our family," she continued. "I am very proud of you."

Correction. _That_ was the nicest thing she had ever said to me. I blinked away tears and nodded.

* * *

One year, eleven months, and thirty days later:

"What's up, bucko?" Oliver asked, sidling up beside me to lean against the hood of my car. He was an officer again – he'd been positively blissful for the whole year so far since he had ditched the white shirt for his favoured blue – and he was swaggering. And he had donuts!

"For me?" I asked, gasping with excitement. I clapped my hands when he handed me one with a flourish. "Thank you." The next few moments were glazed eyes and lips and groans of appreciation.

Finished with our donuts, we relaxed for a few moments. "So," I started. "What do you think of this? Double homicide. It's a bit gruesome."

"Oh no, Peck. You called me here for one reason and one reason only." I had, I think, the decency to look guilty. Oh wait. No I didn't. I grinned at him. "Lay it on me. Did you get it?" I nodded. "How does it look?"

"Amazing. Perfect. She'll love it." A brief dark thought flashed over my mind. "I think."

"No 'I think's in this space," Oliver said, motioning with his hand in a circle, enclosing us in it. "She'll love it. Perfect. Next point. Gail." He looked me in the eyes. "Nothing will do wrong. Not a thing."

"Are you sure?" I scrunched up my nose. "Because I can think of a _lot_ of things that could go wrong."

He sighed. "Okay. I'm going to lay it out for you. You could fall over and hit your head and completely miss your date. You could lose the ring. You could eat some tomato and have to be rushed to the hospital." I was steadily growing more ashen – he _really_ needed to get to the positive part of this pep talk because suddenly my mind was tormented with everything that could and probably would happen.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true. Something could go wrong. Something probably will go wrong. When me and Celery tried?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I set her curtains on fire." I gasped and he laughed again. "I was trying to do the whole romantic thing and I went a little overboard with the candles. Disaster. Total disaster." I found myself smiling despite the fact that it was truly the most horrible story he could be telling me right now. "And you know what? I asked her and she said yes. And no matter what happens, Holly is going to say yes too. That girl loves you."

"Oliver…" I shook my head. "Thanks."

"You, Detective Peck, are amazing. You were my not-so-secretly favourite rookie and you're my favourite dectective and you are that woman's sun and sky and she looks at you like there is no one else out there for her. You do that for her as well and that is how I know that everything is going to be just fine." He nodded and crumpled his coffee cup. "She is very clever, Gail."

"Yes. She is."

"She's a smart cookie. And she will say yes. Now. Go home, get ready. Have fun. Don't freak out."

"Thanks, Ollie." He started to walk away and I bit my lip. "Ollie?" He turned. "When she says yes…we could go shopping?" His face lit up and he nodded.

"For shoes," he said.

"And weapons."

"Weapons and shoes. Perfect." He threw his hand up in a wave. "Go and get her," he ordered her.

Holly's was not the first place I went that afternoon. First was a stop to a familiar apartment block. There was something I needed to do. Needed to know. And it had been making up about forty per cent of my worrying.

"Gail? What are you doing here?" Nick looked confused, the poor thing.

"Let me in."

"Oh-kay." I pushed past him. Rude – why was he in my way? I strode into his living room and began to pace. "Can I help you with something?"

"No." I paced for a little longer. "Actually, yes. I'm really very angry with you."

"Oh boy." Nick took a cautious seat on his couch and braced himself. "Okay. Let me have it."

All the pacing and anger and biting nails in the world couldn't help me. I stopped in front of him, two maybe three steps away, and I gave myself a short pep talk. I could do this. I could ask him this question.

"Nick," I began. Then I took a breath. And another. And another. And another.

"Gail," he mimicked me a few moments later when I still hadn't said anything.

"Nicholas. Why…_whydidn'tyouwanttomarryme_?" I blurted out. He blinked a little.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

I levelled a glare on him that should make him combust but evidently the desert heat he had served in had tempered him to that kind of heat. "Why. Didn't. You. Want. To. Marry. Me?" He opened his mouth, presumably to answer, and my mouth started babbling. Stupid mouth. "Because I want to ask Holly to marry me and if you said no if you left me at the bloody alter she might say no as well and it was super crappy when you didn't and I didn't even like you very much so if she does that if she says no even then I think it might kill me so I need to know. Please."

He nodded reassuringly and I took relief from the idea that this man, my friend, was going to help me. "Gail. It wasn't you." He grimaced. "Okay, it was you." I nodded. I was definitely a factor in most things that fell apart. Particularly in our relationship. Like that shelf I had tried to build but I got bored part way through and then I put books on it anyway and it had fallen on his head – I realised he was actually talking and tuned back in. "and that wasn't the greatest but it was me as well. It was us. And leaving you like that was the shittiest thing I've done in my entire life, I hope you know that I really think that." I offered him a shrug but forgiving him and offering emotional support was not in my repertoire for the night. Distraction, worry, tentative hope, more worry, and determination was all I had for the time being. "We didn't work. We had fun but you and me? I was angry at everything and you were always closed off. And now, apparently a lesbian."

"Yeah." I bit my lip. "So…it was me but it wasn't me?"

"Yep."

"That was all you needed to say. _Jesus_. You're wasting all my time," I complained, enjoying the brief flash of confusion and then acceptance that crossed his face. "Okay, I have to go propose now. Later." And with that, I turned on my heel and stalked out of his apartment, back to my own. The one I shared with my beautiful girlfriend.

I drove to the house.

I walked into the house.

I tracked down Holly where she was lying upside down on our couch, watching TV and throwing my precious cheese puffs at the screen when the other team scored.

I stood in front of her, blocking her view, and I crossed my arms.

"Hey babe. Sorry about the cheese puffs," she said sheepishly. "I don't know what happened they just kind of jumped out of my hand. I didn't mean to waste them."

"Shut up." I sucked in a deep breath. I can do this. I am a Peck. I can do this. "You're nerdy and you can't make pancakes and you watch crappy television and you waste my cheese puffs and you sit around in hoodies all the time and sometimes you steal my clothes and they smell like you when I get them back." She frowned and opened her mouth. I help up a hand. "I'm not done. You're nerdy and you love your job and that's kind of, you know, cool or whatever," why? Why was I trying to be blasé about this? I wanted to tell her how absolutely amazing I found her, how thrilling and fascinating and every part of her every word that she said made me want to know more, hear more, love more. But I couldn't. Instead my words were choppy and strained and coated with nerves and instead of slipping elegantly to my knee, I crouched in front of her and took her hands in mine. "And I kind of love you, you know?" She was staring at me with wide, wide eyes and I dug my hand into my pocket. Pulled out a box. Fumbled with it a bit but, yup, everything was fine. No need to panic. Opened the box. "Holly? I'm kind of skull over calcaneus for you. You…" I closed my eyes tightly. "You make me happy and I want to make you happy for forever and will you please marry me?"

Holly didn't say anything for a long time. A very long time. I peeked, opening my eyes. She was staring at me. Then she would look down at the box in her hands and then back at me and then she opened the box and saw the ring and made a strangled noise and back at me and back to the ring and my palms were very sweaty by that point and she wasn't answering so…it was a no, wasn't it? I stood and shoved my hands in my pockets, taking a few steps back.

"Gail," she croaked. "Where are you going? Gail!" She leapt up and grabbed my shirt, pulling me closer. "Where are you going?"

"If it's going to be a no, I was going to go get incredibly drunk maybe." I shrugged. Thank god my shaking hands were hidden. "I don't know. The plan wasn't solid yet. Maybe get some pancakes."

"That was _not_ a no."

"Well it wasn't a yes."

"It is a yes!"

"It…is? It is?" I looked up at Holly, finally, and caught the end of her smile before she kissed me. Thoroughly.

"It's a yes. I mean," she looped her arms around my neck. "The speech was a bit goofy and you apparently get very grumpy when I don't answer your questions straight away but yes, I will marry you."

"It's not just _a_ question, Holly," I grumbled. "It was _the_ question and you took bloody forever to answer me, didn't you?" Holly just grinned and kissed me. Again. "Sitting there staring like I was talking in French," kiss, "I'm cranky, Holly." Another kiss. "Because you," Kiss. "Didn't say yes straight away and you let me think – stay back there!" I pushed her away, breaking out of yet another kiss, and tried hard to regain my train of thought. "I'm cranky!"

"I know, babe. But how about this – instead of being cranky, why don't we go and have sex as fiancées?" Holly stripped her hoodie off and displayed for me the fact that she was only wearing a pair of underwear underneath.

I thought about it. And thought about it. And thought some more, frowning at her a little. She tried to stay in a sexy pose but eventually that had to droop as she became concerned.

"Gail?"

"See?" I retorted. "It doesn't feel good, does it?" I stalked into our bedroom. "Get your butt in here! You have some making up to do." After a moment, I added, "And McNally made me buy you tickets to your favourite hockey teams home game because she said that was romantic and that is all you are getting from me." Holly tackled me onto the bed and the rest, as they say, was history.

(Well actually there was about four hours of heated sex, a couple hours of sleep, back to sex, food, sex, a few phone calls, more food, sex, more phone calls one of which accidently became part of sex because Holly was an insatiable beast poor McNally, and then sleep curled up in one another's arms as soon to be wife and wife… You get the picture.)

At some point in the night, I turned in towards Holly and tucked my face into her neck and thanked the universe that Holly Stewart existed.

**The End. I hope you enjoyed it. Lord knows we needed this after the interesting season/half-season whatever it is finale that was on. Let me know what you thought. Happy reading, readers :)**


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